


Legally binding

by Akemichan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Crime, Attorney!Shiro, BDSM Scene, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dom/sub, M/M, More information at the beginning of every chapter, bottom!shiro, dom!Keith, sub!Shiro, top!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akemichan/pseuds/Akemichan
Summary: "So, this is your first time as a potential sub?""Yes," Shiro answers."And you don't have previous experiences in BDSM.""I don't.""May I ask why you decided to try it?""I'd prefer no. It's personal." Shiro takes a deep breath, then adds, "And I'd like to take it slow.""Of course, of course." Lotor nods solemnly. "I think Master Akira is perfect for you."He doesn't know how much he's right.Written for the Sheith Big Bang 2019!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 76
Kudos: 137
Collections: Sheith Big Bang 2019





	1. First play

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Sheith Big Bang!  
> My wonderful partner was [Seiteki](https://twitter.com/RepeatEternity) who drew such amazing arts for my story. You'll find them in the story! Check her twitter for more art and for her own Big Bang!  
> A big thanks to [Lole](https://twitter.com/leandralena) too which helped me checking the story for mistakes and gave me a lot of incredible advice!
> 
> Since I didn't want to put too many tags together in the introduction, you will find at the beginning of each chapter the warning for the BDSM scene you will find in it.  
> It's nothing extreme, but I still prefer people to be aware of them.
> 
> I hope you liked it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets a new client.
> 
> Warnings: nudity, binding, light spanking

He should have turned down the ringtone.

It was a beginner’s mistake.

But no one calls him usually. So he, kinda, forgot.

And, at the exact moment the fugitive left safe spot of his motel room, Keith’s cell phone rings.

Loudly.

_Don't close your eyes in the darkness_

_You know men you can rescue mankind_

Keith startles, and so does the man. For a long second, they stare at each other and then, the man turns and runs away.

“Shit.”

Keith chases after him, leaving behind the safe, dark and empty courtyard of the motel to reach the busier street around the corner. It’s early, but people already crowd the pedestrian walkways on the way to work. They try to move aside as the fugitive runs into and then past them. They reserve a dark look for Keith as he comes running after the man.

Keith can’t say if it’s because of the running or because his phone is still ringing, shrilling loudly in Keith’s ears. He doesn’t have the time to answer or even silence the call. 

_This could be heaven or this could be hell_

_Beware of tomorrow_

The fugitive jumps over the railing to the stairs of the subway, tackling a couple of people on his way. Keith avoids them and ignores their complaints, running hard. Once he reaches the platform, he can’t do much but look on in horror as the subway departs with the fugitive on it, safe from Keith’s grasp.

There’s no point waiting to take the next one.

_Take over of power_

_While forgetting reality_

_Spill blood on fire_

His cell phone is still ringing.

In the end he answers the call. “You just made me lose my bounty.”

Lotor’s voice sounds too happy for Keith’s taste. “Good. That means you need money. I scheduled an appointment for you this evening.”

Keith rolls his eyes as he climbed back up the stairs to return to the street. “We have an agreement, no more than two sessions per week.”

“I know, I know.” Keith can image Lotor dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “But you’re perfect for this one. And believe me, you’ll love him.”

Keith sighs. He doesn’t really mind the extra income. “Fine, you win. Send me the specifics.”

And so, instead of enjoying the money from the bounty, Keith spends the rest of the day studying the dossier Lotor sent him on his next sub. He doesn’t like to deal with virgins, but he’s also one of the masters that have more strict limits, and does not have sex with his subs. So it’s understandable that Lotor asked him to deal with this new client.

After deciding more or less what he’s going to do, he leaves his flat and heads to the Sincline BDSM Club. He avoids Lotor by passing through the employee’s secondary door and goes into the changing room. He puts on his black latex pants and his top, he ties down his hair into a ponytail and takes his personal riding crop from his locker. He will find the rest of the equipment in the room.

Room #3, as indicated in Lotor’s dossier, is set as a hotel room: a bed with a metallic railing headboard, a desk with a chair and a wardrobe. So unoriginal. All the furniture is homologated for BDSM sessions, and Keith looks around to check the equipment. He prepares the straps at the four corners of the bed before sitting down at the edge of the mattress and waiting for his new sub.

The Champion – that is the name the sub chose, everyone in the club has nicknames for privacy reasons – is fully on time. He opens the door and enters just as the clock signs 08:00 PM.

And wow, Keith has to agree with Lotor about loving him. The man is gorgeous. In this line of work, you don’t get to choose your clients, and Keith can’t say he has many handsome subs under his wing. But the man in front of him is a solid ten, leagues above his other clients.

The Champion has an angelic puppy face with hazel eyes over a perfectly sculpted jaw, and he’s the only one that could pull off white hair still looking awesome. The scars just add hotness to it. Keith can see the Champion’s muscles under his grey suit and he can’t wait to take a closer look at them.

_Nickname: Champion_

_Safeword: Kerberos_

_Okay with: nudity, humiliating_

The Champion stares at Keith for a minute, mouth half-open. Only when Keith stands up and approaches him does the Champions springs out his momentary awe.

“H-hi.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Who gives you permission to speak?”

The Champion blinks twice. He holds his breath as Keith places the crop upon the Champion’s lips.

“From now on, you’ll speak only if I tell you so, and you’ll address me as ‘Sir’, is it clear?”

The Champion is a fast learner. He nods slowly and does not open his mouth.

“Good. Do you remember your safeword? Tell me.”

“It’s Kerberos. Sir,” he adds immediately, and he’s rewarded by a satisfied smirk from Keith. Even the Champion’s voice is gorgeous.

Keith returns back to the bed, he sits down on the edge and crosses his legs. “Get naked.”

The Champion blinks. Once. He looks a little around before starting to unbutton his shirt. He places his clothes on the chair, one piece after another, until he remains with only his boxers on. He only needs a small nod from Keith before taking them off too.

Keith points his crop at the chair. “Fold them. We aren’t messy here.” And he remains on the bed, looking at the Champion as he wraps up his clothes: the pants first, then the shirt, socks, and boxers. Shoes placed under the chair, coat on its back.

It was a good show, that gives Keith an in depth look at the Champion’s gorgeous body, but also at the other scars on his chest and, of course, the prosthetic right arm. It’s probably one of the more advanced models because Keith saw it moving as a real arm.

Well, that explains the limits. And for the first time, Keith wonders if it was humiliating enough to act naked in front of a stranger. The Champion looks a little bit flustered.

_Okay with: touching_

_Soft limits: buttock, scars_

_Hard limits: private parts_

Keith leaves him standing in the center of the room, on the softness of the carpet. He decides that, for now, he won’t try the soft limits. Let’s see how much the Champion can handle at first. So he touches the Champion’s face, rubbing the point of his finger over the edge of his jaws (he has to stand on his tiptoes to reach it), and moves a hand through the soft white hair, but he does not brush the scar on the nose.

The Champion remains completely still as Keith slides his hand down to his shoulder, but his eyes follow every movement. Keith does his best to not touch any scars, not even by mistake. Still, he takes a good amount of time to press his fingers into the muscles of the left arm and to examine the prosthetic one. He needs to know how to deal with it, but it looks like a true arm.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough. Bed.”

The Champion releases a small sigh (relief?) and obeys. At first, he sits down on the edge, but at Keith’s nod, he lies down, back on the mattress. Keith fastens the Champion’s wrists and ankles at the four corners of the bed with the leather straps. Easy to take off. He can see the Champion’s breath getting fast and how he keeps his head up to watch Keith’s actions.

“Stay put,” Keith orders, and with two fingers, he pushes the Champion’s forehead until his head rests on the pillow, “or you’ll hurt your neck.”

Keith crawls up on him, his hands on both sides of his chest, the crop placed on the mattress. The Champion doesn’t take his eyes off of Keith’s face, as his breath evens out. Keith can admire the Champion’s bare chest as he moves up and down. His nipples are dark pink, big as an apricot.

_Hard limits: private parts_

Keith isn’t sure that nipples fall under the ‘private parts’ hard limits, so he gives a tentative rub around the areola before taking the nipple between his thumb and index finger. He presses and the nipple hardens under his grip. The Champion makes a small wriggle, presses his lips together and looks away. His breath quickens again.

_Okay with: spanking_

_Soft limits: prolonged pain, excessive pain_

_Hard limits: genital pain_

Now, Keith sits down on the Champion’s abdomen. With a small frown, he takes his crop and smashes it against the hard nipple. The Champion flinched, not expecting it, and arches his back. A small gulp emerges from his mouth before he bites his lips to control his voice.

He looks at Keith, and pants. Keith tilts his head to one side, unconvinced. It doesn’t look like the Champion is enjoying himself, more like he’s trying to endure a situation he wants to force himself into. As a master, Keith can’t allow that.

_Okay with: soft master/slave role-play_

_Hard limits: public humiliation_

Without a word, he leaves the bed and the crop. He reaches the clothes and rummages in the pocket; it doesn’t take long to find the cellphone and wallet. He opens them.

“I don’t know why you going around with so much cash, but thank you, I guess,” he comments, as he puts all the banknotes inside his leather pants. “And you don’t even have a safety password for the phone.” He throws the wallet on top of the clothes and goes to the end of the bed, where he has a clear view of the Champion all naked and spread out.

Despite the previous advice, the Champion stretches his neck to look at Keith. He’s frowning and blinking. He still doesn’t talk, as he’s been told not to do. Keith does a brief look at the app on the phone: there are Facebook, WhatsApp and Instagram.

Just fine.

“Are you a manager or something?” he asks. “Is this your private phone or your business phone? I wonder how your contacts may react, seeing you like this.” He lifts the phone high enough to get all the Champion’s body in one shot. “My guess is they’ll enjoy it as much as I am.”

“Stop.” There isn’t a shout, only a firm and calm order.

Keith tilts his head. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop. That wasn’t… I didn’t ask for this.”

“Looks like I care?” Keith replies. “And I really, really want to know how you’re going to stop me.” His gaze looks over the Champion’s restraints, with a small smirk. “You look good. Let’s see how many likes you get on Instagram.”

“Stop.” This time, the Champion gives a very strong yank to the restraints at his wrists. He doesn’t get free, but he jerks in the bed. “Stop right now.”

It takes another two yanks before Keith moves and sits down next to him to show him the screen of his cellphone: he was playing Candy Crush the whole time. The Champion blinks and a little color of pink appears on his cheeks.

Adorable.

“How did you get to this level? I’ve never made past two hundred,” Keith comments, to lighten up the atmosphere. With a sigh, he checks the restraints to be sure the yanks haven’t caused any damage to the skin. Then, he focuses his attention on the Champion.

“You gave me your limits, and I’m not gonna pass them,” he says. “I need you to have trust in that. But I need to trust you too. I need to know that as soon as something makes you uncomfortable, for any reason, you _will_ use the safeword to stop me. That’s the only way I will know something’s wrong.”

He caresses the Champion’s face and he doesn’t flinch at the touch. He just lies his head down on the pillow. “I’m your master now, let me take care of you, okay?” Keith concludes. “Are we clear?”

“I… sorry. Yes. Sir.”

“Good.”

As he put back the phone and the cash, Keith throws a look at the clock: he doesn’t want the first session to last too long, but at the same time he wants to test the Champion’s willingness to continue a little more. So he recalls his crop and gives small spanking around the Champion’s chest, two on the nipples. The Champion closes his eyes and winces at the smack, his lips still sealed.

Then, in a small whisper, he says, “…Kerberos.”

Keith leaves the crop and hurries to take off all the straps. The Champion stretches his arms a little as he puts himself in a sitting position. “My shoulders become a little sore,” he explains. “I can speak now, can’t I?”

“Sure. Playtime is over. Are you cold?”

The Champion looks at his naked body. “…a little.”

There is a blanket in the wardrobe and, with much to the Champion’s disbelief, Keith places it on his shoulders before sitting down on the bed next to him. He grabs for the Champions left arm with his hands. The Champion lets him, observing as Keith’s fingers press slowly into his skin.

“This is the… aftercare, right?” he asks, at last.

“Yes.” Keith nods. “Some of my clients hate this, but a good sub knows it’s a very important part of the session. Maybe you don’t notice, but even for a light session like ours right now, you were under some stress.”

“Oh, no, believe me, I noticed.” The Champion laughs a little, a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. Without stopping his work, Keith looks intensely at him.

“May I ask why you decided to give BDSM a try?” he asks. “Nothing wrong with it, of course, but… You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

The Champion reflects a little on the question. “A suggestion. I was told this kind of… role-play may help me to relieve some stress I have in real life.”

“And is it working?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “It’s entirely new, and I have to give it time to see if it really helps me.”

“You can ask for another master if you think my work doesn’t suit you,” Keith proposes. “Lotor pairs up masters and subs based on common kinks and limits, and that how you ended up with me but if you’d like to try-”

“Oh, no, no,” the Champion interrupts him, a slight pink on his cheeks again. “You’re fine. Just fine.”


	2. Second play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro starts to open his mind to his master.
> 
> Warnings: tickling, light spanking, bondage with rope and a chair

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

When the prosecutor returned to the bench, Allura placed a hand on Shiro’s knee. “Are you okay?” she asks, in a whisper. “Can you manage?”

“I’m okay,” he assures her. “And for once it’s not even a murder case. I can handle it.”

She nods, with a smile. “Just remember: we chose the jury; looking for people that believe in conspiracy theories and don’t trust the big companies. Push that button.”

“I will.”

Shiro stands up, walks towards the witness’ stand, and places a hand on the wooden desk. “So,” he says, a little smirk on his face, “how much did the government pay you to steal Miss Ryner’s work, Mister Lubos?”

The jury doesn’t take long to decide and to confirm that Ryner is the rightful owner of the Olkari medicine, condemning the Lubos Corporation. Charging them a billion-dollar fine in addition to giving back the patent on the medicine. Again, a clear victory for the Voltron Office.

“Man, Shiro, that last questioning was savage.” Lance pated Shiro’s shoulder. “Glad to have the Champion of the Court back.”

“I didn’t go anywhere, Lance,” Shiro points out.

“Of course, it’s just, you know…”

Hunk stops him before he can speak again. “Guys, we won, which means after party! I just found a nice Indian restaurant two blocks away, that…”

Hunk’s voice and discussion with Lance becomes a small blur as Shiro submerges himself in thought. Lance doesn’t have to say it out loud, they all know Shiro hasn’t been himself for a very long time. He’s still the lawyer of the office, and they still win lawsuits thanks to Allura’s knowledge of human psychology and Pidge’s hacking skills mostly, but focusing on the cases has been difficult, especially if they were murder cases.

Shiro can’t help being disappointed with himself, that he let the others down.

Allura gives him a sweet smile. “You’re getting better; I can see it. Looks like the therapy is finally making some progress.”

“I guess so.”

Allura means the therapy with a psychotherapist. Shiro isn’t going to correct her and explain that right now, his more effective therapy is being the sub to his gorgeous master, Akira. Well, it’s not like he’s lying to her: BDSM sessions were suggested by his psychologist after all. Shiro was reluctant at first, and his first performance hadn't been his best. But Akira was a sweet master and, for once, Shiro is starting to let someone else taking care of him, at least in role-play.

“Okay, Pidge is going to give Ryner a lift back then she’ll join us later at the restaurant,” Hunk announces.

“You’ll have to take a cab, then, because I have an appointment,” Shiro announces.

Lance doesn’t hide his disappointment. “But it’s the after-party!”

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s a pre-scheduled appointment, it’s my therapy.”

That is enough for Lance to not insist further, and for Allura and Hunk to not ask about it. Allura had made it clear since day one that therapy was Shiro’s business, but to know that the entire group was here for him if he needed them.

So, Shiro leaves the courthouse and stops by his house to take a brief shower before driving towards the Sincline BDSM club. For privacy reasons, the outside of the club looks more like a generic office building more than anything else. He reserves a small greeting nod for Lotor, who is at the reception desk, and moves towards room #3.

As usual, Akira is there, waiting for him. At this point, they have a clear routine, so Shiro undresses and folds his clothes without any orders from Akira. Since that first time, he comes to the sessions in more casual clothes and he has a hunch that Akira likes his leather jacket.

Shiro, for sure, loves Akira’s latex pants and the way they underline his ass.

He doesn’t feel embarrassed being naked in front of Akira anymore; but he still has some problems when Akira touches him, which happens often.

This time, though, Akira doesn’t look at him. He moves the clothes away from the chair and places it at the center of the room. “Sit,” he orders.

Shiro obeys. The chair is comfortable, surely made for this kind of situation. He looks as Akira pulls some red ropes from the wardrobe. It’s the first time he’s used them. Ropes are more personal, take more time to be settled and more time to be taken off. If Akira decides to use them, it means he believes Shiro is ready to take a step further as a sub.

_Okay with: bondage_

_Soft limits: blindfold, gag_

_Hard limits: genitals bound_

The ropes are soft to the touch, softer than Shiro had thought they would be. He notices it as Akira ties up his ankles to the chair’s leg. They’re made to hurt less. Other ropes go around his waist, effectively securing Shiro to the chair’s back, while his hands are tied up front. Akira’s fingers rub his skin as he fastens the ropes around his wrist, and Shiro leans into the contact. He loves the fact that Akira hasn’t flinched, not even once, at his prosthetic.

There is a hook on the ceiling that Shiro hadn’t noticed before: a rope connected to Shiro’s wrists passes through it, and Akira pulls it to raise Shiro’s arm above his head. Shiro feels his entire body stretching at the pull, his butt almost rising from the chair until Akira decides it’s enough and tied off the end of the rope at the back of the chair.

Shiro breathes hard. The position is uncomfortable. He is uncomfortable. But they just started. It’s new. He can handle it. Akira is now in front of him, a boot pressed on Shiro’s right leg, his signature crop again in his hand.

“Today, I’ll dedicate all my attention to your wonderful chest,” he announces. “And I forbid you to laugh, otherwise I’ll punish you. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He doesn’t like it. Is it the position? It is because of the ropes?

Akira presses Shiro’s nipples at the same time and, doing so, the crop still in his hand brushes one of Shiro’s scars.

And then, Shiro remembers. They tied him down to a chair. They tied him every time they interrogated him, every time they tortured him.

Akira sweeps the crop under Shiro’s lift armpit.

It tickles.

He shouldn’t laugh. He ducks back from the chair, but he can’t. He’s trapped. He can’t leave the chair. He grabs the rope with his hand and pulls off. He moans.

The crop hits one of his nipples. “No laughing.”

Shiro’s mouth betrays him and releases another small sob, and it’s rewarded by another hit on the other nipple. It doesn’t hurt. It shouldn’t hurt too much.

“I told you to stay silent.”

_“I told you to talk! Talk! Told me!”_

_“No, please, no, not anymore!”_

_“Then talk!”_

_“I don’t know! I can’t…!”_

His breath starts to become frantic, Shiro feels his chest pressing tight against the rope that secures him at the chair’s back. His hands still pull the rope, his legs wiggle around, but he can’t get free. He can’t, he’s trapped, they’re going to hurt him again and again-

“Champion? Are you okay?”

_“Oh, my God. Someone call 911! He’s still alive. Shiro, can you hear me? Please talk to me.”_

No, it’s not, he isn’t safe, it hurts, it hurts, he can’t get free. “….pion? Champion?” Akira’s voice. It’s far, but it’s there. Akira is there. His master is there. Does it have enough voice?

He screams. “Let me go! Let me go!” And then he remembers. “…kerberos. Kerberos! KERBEROS!”

His hands fall to his lap. Akira cut the rope that secured them on the ceiling with a knife Shiro didn’t even know Akira had. But it’s fast: the blade slices through Shiro’s restraints at his wrist and ankles and chest.

He’s free. He can run. He tries to stand up, but his legs betray him and he falls back on the chair. Akira’s hands are on him, gently caressing his face and his hair.

“It’s fine, it’s over.”

Akira hugs him and, as he isn’t in his body anymore, Shiro sees his arms reciprocate and his head lays down on Akira’s shoulder. His entire body trembles and Akira doesn’t let him go until Shiro manages to calm himself down. Then, he takes Shiro’s hand and slowly leads him to the bed. He covers Shiro’s shoulder with the blanket and curls next to him.

“Are you okay?” Akira asks, once Shiro’s breathing returns to normal.

Shiro slowly nods. He turns his head to look at Akira’s face and instead of the usual, cold mask of the master, Shiro finds two big, blue-violet eyes that look at him with apprehension and sadness. He owns his master an explanation.

“…I have PTSD,” he admits. “Almost a year ago… something happened to me. I’m in therapy, and I’ve gotten a little better, and then my therapist suggested for me to try… this. To be in control of what happened to me.”

Akira turns a little, his gaze to the chair and to the ropes that lay messy around it. “I see,” he says, and he doesn’t ask further. “You should have told me.” There isn't an accusation in Akira’s voice, only the sadness of having failed as a master.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it with all… the being in charge and everything.”

“You _are_ in charge.” Akira places a hand on Shiro’s cheek to move his head on the side, forcing him to look in his eyes. “A word, just a word, and everything is over. A word from _you_. You are the one with the power here.”

“I know.”

Akira curls more against him, hugs his chest and places his head against his shoulder. “Do you want to quit?”

“No. No. I feel better now. I think it’s helping me, for real. It’s just…”

Shiro hasn’t had an attack for quite some time. It’s clear the chair is still too much for him, too early. He wants to get there. He wants to be in charge of his emotions in a situation where he is in control.

“Let’s add the chair to your hard limits,” Akira proposes, “and I won’t use the ropes from the time being too. Are you okay with it?”

For now, it would suffice. Shiro leans down a little further on Akira’s arm. Being in charge is good, but it’s also good to have someone to rely on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and the others' law office is inspired by the tv series "Bull".  
> So, yeah, please don't expect much accuracy from those parts XD
> 
> Also, I did some researches about PTSD and it is a therapy to relieve the traumatic event n a safe environment... just not like Shiro is doing here! Do not try this at home!


	3. Third play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's work outside the BDSM club isn't going as good as his time with Shiro.
> 
> Warning: animal role-play, nudity, bite-gag  
> Not-Sheith anal penetration

The soft, orange ball takes a curvilinear flight, hits the jamb and bounces back. The Champion tries to grab it as it falls back down, but he fails and the ball bounces on the ground and rolls under the wardrobe. The Champion rolls back on his side, collects it with his prosthetic arm, takes it in his mouth and trots back to Keith, who sits down on the carpet, back against the bed.

The Champion sits down on his knees, hands firm on the ground, the ball still in his mouth, and waits with big, expectant eyes. Keith smiles

_Okay with: animal-play_

_Hard limits: butt plug_

The fake ears and the black pants with the fluffy tail are pretty, generic dog brown features, but Keith decides the Champion makes up for it with his soft, puppy face. He looks like a Golden Retriever, or a Saint Bernard. Big, fluffy, loyal.

Keith holds out his hand, palm towards the sky, and the Champion opens the mouth and lets the ball fall on it.

“Good boy.”

With that, he scratches the Champion’s chin. The Champion releases a small bark and pushes his head against Keith’s chest, almost making him fall. Keith laughs and tries to push him back with both his hand, until the Champion frees himself from the grip and gives two licks on Keith’s cheek.

_Soft limits: kiss_

They both freeze, definitely not expecting that.

Looks like the Champion gets a little carried away from the all role-play things. And so, he trots away and hides behind the desk, crawled down. He peers a little to see Keith’s reaction that, from his part, has still the hand on his cheek where was licked.

_Soft limits: gags_

He smirks.

He stands up and recalls from the wardrobe a leather dog’s mask. It’s only the muzzle part of it, with a bit gag inside and two buckles to fasten it in place.

“Come on, boy, come here.”

The Champion crawls tentatively in front of him and shots a small frown at the muzzle. Keith kneels next to him and, with a hand to lift the Champion’s chin, he puts the dog’s mask in place and closes it. The Champion bit the gag and then moves the head from side to side to side.

_Non-verbal Safeword: three snaps._

“Snap your finger three times,” Keith orders. “Show me you can do it.”

Three snaps, loudly and clear. Keith waits for a second, to see if the Champion wants to use the Safeword or not, but the Champion just remains there, on his four legs, looking for him.

Keith sits down next to him. “Let’s train you with a bit.”

Sit down.

Up.

Leg.

Other leg.

Rolls.

There is something very intimate and adorable in the way a man like the Champion, who has the same muscle mass as a bodybuilder, lies down with the back on the carpet, completely naked, arms and legs curled in on himself. Keith can’t resist but to rub his belly with his nails, just around the belly button. The Champion wriggles a little and releases a couple of small moans from behind the gag.

_Hard limits: public humiliation_

“Hey,” Keith murmurs. “Do you want to go for a walk?” At the Champion’s interrogative gaze, he adds, “the garden of the portico can be used for this kind of play. But… we may meet other… animals. Like you.”

The Champion seems to reflect on it. Then, he rolls back on his legs and arms and trots to the door. He lifts on his leg and scratches the handle to open it.

“Okay, okay, don’t rush.” Keith laughs.

He notices the slight pink on the Champion’s cheek as he put on the leather collar and leash. He rolls it up a couple of times around his wrist and opens the door. The Champion precedes him outside, pulling the leash a little. Keith follows his rhythm.

The Sincline club is a two-floor building, with a courtyard inside. Around it, are all the room for the masters to use. In the yard, there is a garden, with real greenery, and flower beds and a small stoned path. Keith’s room is upstairs, so they climb down the wooden stairs in the corner to reach the garden.

The Champion refuses to walk on the path, so Keith lets him stay on the grass. He sits down on a bench and ties the leash to the back of it, letting enough free for the Champion to move around. And he does, sniffing everything and playing with the small stones he finds.

It’s peaceful.

It reminds Keith of the time he managed to spend with Kosmo and his father back when he was young, with the exception that the Champion isn’t… a real dog.

Keith frowns a little as Zethrid comes from the other side of his garden, her sub trotting behind her. Unlike the Champion, he wears an entire dog’s mask and some fake leather paws. No tail, just completely naked. The Champion peers a little from behind the bench at the new couple, then walks and puts himself in front of Keith. His posture is relaxed, but he looks like a watchdog at that moment.

Keith greets her with only a small nod, but of course, it isn’t enough for her to let it go. She smirks as she looks at the Champion.

“Cute puppy you have there,” she comments. “You still need to train it better though. The tail in the pants is for weaklings.”

“Fuck off,” he replies. “He’s my dog, I get to decide that.” He throws a brief gaze at the other sub. “Yours don’t even have a tail.”

“That’s because it can do other things.” Without warning, she kicks him on the side so he moves in front of her and then she thrusts the pointed, long heels in his ass. He releases an unmistakably high moan of pleasure, only partially covered by the mask. “See? That’s what I call a good puppy.”

_Hard limits: sex, anal penetration, blowjobs_

Keith gives her an annoyed look. He pats his leg a bit with the palm of his hand, and the Champion turns in his direction and places his hands on it.

“Well, have fun and see you around,” she replies, still smiling.

Only when Keith is sure she returned to her room, does he take the Champion’s face in his two hands and squeezes it. “Do not mind her,” he says. “You’re the best boy. My wonderful puppy.” The Champion rests his head on Keith’s knees and lets him pet his hair.

“Come on, let’s go back.” Keith takes back the leash and the Champion walks at his side.

Once he closes the door behind him, Keith bends down: he opens the buckles and slowly removes the gag. The Champion coughs a little and brushes off the drool with the back of his left hand.

“You okay?” Keith passes him a handkerchief to clean himself.

“Fine, fine, just…” The Champion stands up, takes off the fake ears and looks human again. “I wasn’t expecting… that.” And he nods at the door with his head.

“Yeah, sorry about it.” Keith lies down on the bed and nods at the Champion to join him. “She’s definitely the sadistic part of the BDSM. I would have preferred not to meet her out of all of them.”

The Champion takes his place next to him. “It’s fine, just unexpected. Not very dog-like.”

“You made a very good puppy,” Keith assures him, as he rubs the Champion’s wrist, sore after so many crawling around.

“Oh, well, thank you,” he muses.

“Even if,” Keith adds, “I’m not sure it can help you with your PTSD so much. I mean, this kind of role-play may be less stressful than a bondage session, but-”

“No, no, I get it,” the Champion interrupts him. “I appreciate your concern and I’m okay, taking it slow. I don’t want to risk another attack either. And this was… fun? In a way? I… It’s really nice to, you know, be something that needs to be taken care of.”

Keith nods, but he doesn’t speak further. He continues his massage and lets the Champion’s words flow free. “In my work… the lives of people depend on me. People keep telling me that not everything is in my hands, and they’re right; and I’m not alone but I can’t help but think that maybe, if I had taken things differently, or made a different decision…” He takes a long sigh and closes his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to annoy you.”

“You didn’t.” Keith isn’t watching him, focused on how his hands massage the Champion’s arm. Not all clients like to speak during aftercare, and none of them use Keith to vent. It’s nice. “And I understand. I may not save lives directly, but what I do… it can be useful for a lot of people.”

“That’s for sure.”

Keith realizes the Champion’s talking about himself. And of course, he is, he can’t know Keith’s main jobs is a completely different one. He presses his lips together. For a second, he reflects on telling him or not. Of opening so much of himself to him.

Instead, he nods and smiles lightly. “I’m glad.”

But apparently, the Champion is testing the waters that day, because he asks, “So, do you have a dog? A real one, I mean.”

“Yes.” This time, Keith decides to answer. It’s a pretty harmless question. Is it? “Or I had. He’s not dead, just – he’s a big dog and I don’t have much time to take care of him, so I left him at my dad’s farm, in the country. It’s better for him.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes. I try to check on him as much as I can.” He shoots a look at the Champion and his mouth opens by itself. “What about you?”

The Champion shakes his head. “I like dogs, but I work a lot and I feel like they’ll be too lonely. They suggested a cat, but I haven’t decided yet.”

“Do you want to try to be a kitten next time?” Keith proposes, half serious, half-joking. The Champion laughs nervously and cuddles closer against him.

But, speaking about jobs, Keith has one to do for the evening, so they can’t stay here forever. During aftercare, Keith lets the sub decides how much and how long do they need it since they’re the one that needs to recover after a stressful session. After all, Lotor pays him by session, not by hours.

The Champion does the same, but Keith notices, he starts to extend the aftercare more and more. And talk more when they do. Keith doesn’t mind, but this week he has something to do.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Oh, yes. Sure. It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

The Champion looks a little bit embarrassed. He smiles apologetic and stands up before Keith has any chance to stop him.

“If you need a shower…” he tries.

The Champion shakes his head and reaches the chair with his clothes. “I’ll shower at my house.”

Keith observes him as he dresses back, with that wonderful leather jacket of his.

“Thank you for today, as usual,” the Champion waves at him.

Keith reserves him a tiny smile. Once the Champion left, he gets up from the bed and advises the reception they can come to clean the room. He takes a brief shower in the changing room and then, with his bike, he rides through the busy streets until he reaches his destination. He parks the bike and walks a couple of meters until he finds a good spot. He hides in a small alley created between two buildings, back leaning against one of the walls.

From there, he’s almost invisible from the outside, but he has a clear view of the building on the other side of the street and to its main gate. His target, Bandor Pollux, arrives ten minutes later. Keith watches as he enters the building and sees the light turn on in his apartment on the second floor.

Based on his information, Bandor is involved with drug delivery. Keith is unsure if Bandor knows what drugs he’s handling, but either way, he will lead him to the stash and hopefully the kingpin. Until now, he’s had no luck during his nighttime surveillance.

So, Keith remains still and waits for something to happen.

And something _does_ happen, even if it isn’t what Keith expected.

First, a blonde woman enters the building. Keith doesn’t recognize her as one of the other building occupants, so he takes a couple of photos with his cellphone, to identify her later and see if she’s connected to Bandor. He stays hidden.

He stays hidden even when the police arrive, sirens wailing; followed by an ambulance. From his spot, he observes as the policemen enter the building. Based on the time they spend inside, he assumes something bad has happened inside one of the apartments. CSI arrived shortly after, and about a half-hour later, a dark body bag is being transported out, destined for the morgue. The blonde woman from before is escorted out crying, and a taxi is called for her.

Keith’s mind races, a part of him thinks that the best course of action would be to ignore the entire situation since they hadn't noticed his presence yet. For that matter, he didn't see much besides Bandor’s entrance and that of the blond woman. But his civic duty was to reveal what he knew, so, with an annoyed sigh, he walked towards the police car.

“Officer Griffin,” he greets, with a small nod of his head.

It’s agent Rizavi to greet him first. “Oh. Kogane! It’s been a while. Not much luck with bounties recently?”

Griffin shoots her a glare. “What are you doing here, Kogane?” he asks, and it sounds like an accusation.

Keith points out his previous hiding spot. “Surveillance. I was following a lead.”

“So you may have seen something,” Griffin comments. “Why did you only come just now?”

Rizavi ignores him. “What were you surveilling?”

“Bandor Pollux, he’s one of the occupants here…” His voice trails off as he looks at the faces of Rizavi and Griffin. “He’s the victim, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Griffin confirms. He taps his index finger to his throat. “Stabbed right here. His sister came to visit, and she found him. You’re late.”

Keith frowns. “The blonde woman from before? She’s the sister?”

Both Rizavi and Griffin nod, and this time it’s their turn to realize that Keith had, in fact, seen something. “What?” Griffin says.

“Bandor was alive when I arrived here. I saw him enter the building,” Keith explains. “And no one, other than his sister has come here after him.”

Rizavi shoots Griffin a look, and he nods. “Well, Kogane, it turns out you just won a free ride to the department for a statement.”

 _Asshole_ , Keith thinks. He doesn’t have to go down there, it’s just another way from Griffin to annoy him. With a snort, he nods. “Fine. But I want to be kept in the loop for this investigation.”

More than anyone else, he is interested in Bandor’s killer.


	4. Fourth play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro met Keith outside the club. It didn't go well, but it gets better.
> 
> Warnings: bondage, blindfold, OTM gag, spanking, handjob

A new day, a new case. Murder, this time. Shiro’s specialty.

Allura just finished introducing their client and explaining the case to the team. “So, basically all they have is an indecisive testimony. Romelle doesn’t have any motive to kill his brother and we’ll push the jury in that direction. Along with the reasonable doubt and that nobody sees her murdering for sure.”

“What about the jury?” Shiro asks.

“We’ll need people that believe in coincidence. That believe people can be in the wrong place at the wrong time. People that may believe Romelle was unlucky enough to reach his brother’s apartment just after his murder. Also, people with good relationships with their siblings might be a good addition as well..”

Shiro nods and returned to the folder Pidge prepared for the case. Allura is about to continue with her explanation, when a gasp from Lance turns everyone’s attention to him.

“Keith Kogane is the prosecutor’s witness?”

“What, that Keith Kogane?” Hunk asks. “The one you told me about?”

Pidge frowns. “Who is Keith Kogane?”

“He was a cadet at the police academy. You know, the golden boy, the one with the maximum grades in everything, the one everyone had expectations about, even though he’s a jackass,” Lance explains, waving his hands around dramatically. “But then he got expelled and now he’s a bounty hunter or some shit like that.”

“He is a bounty hunter,” Pidge confirms, looking at her tablet. “Average results, it looks like.”

“See? All talk.”

“Do you know why he was expelled?” Allura asked, thoughtful. “We may need to use this information as a way of discrediting his testimony.”

“Well, the reason is classified.” Lance taps the finger on the papers. “Gossip said he punched another cadet. I don’t know much else, I was a year behind.”

“You told me you were rivals,” Hunk replies, shooting him an unconvinced look.

“Because we were the best in our respective years!”

Given that Lance didn’t pass the last exam for his active training and that he now works with them as a private investigator, they doubt that. Still, none of them corrected him and Pidge ends the conversation commenting, “I’ll search in Kogane’s bounties to see if I found some other violent acts we can use.”

Allura nods. “In the meantime, Shiro, we need to prepare for the bail hearing. Romelle can’t go to prison.”

“And she won’t.”

With that, Shiro forgets about Keith Kogane entirely as a person. He knows he’ll be a witness, but he has a lot of work to do before questioning him. First the preliminary hearing, choosing of the jury (they get lucky with that), getting info on the other witnesses for the prosecutor, like officer Griffin and the pathologist.

And even on the day of the testimony, Shiro’s mind is more focused on which questions he needs to ask, and how to bring the jury to his side for Romelle’s sake, than whoever this Keith Kogane is.

To be honest, he doesn’t really care about him.

Until he does. 

“The prosecution calls Keith Kogane on the stand,” prosecutor Iverson announces.

“Here comes the star,” Lance comments bitterly from behind him.

Shiro lifts his head to watch as Kogane takes his place next to the judge, and swears in before his testimony. He doesn’t wear latex, but rather a clean, dark suit with a white shirt, and his black hair braided.

Not enough difference to _not_ notice that Keith Kogane is Akira.

The prosecutor’s main witness is Shiro’s master.

“Mister Kogane,” Iverson starts his questioning, “can you tell the jury what you were doing the night of the murder?”

“I was on the opposite side of the street from the victim’s building. I was just doing some surveillance on the victim.”

“You are a bounty hunter, correct?”

“Correct.”

“So why were you watching the victim? He didn't have a bounty on his head.”

“I was informed that he had connections to one of the bounties I was hunting and that he may have put said bounty up in his apartment from time to time. I was hoping to catch up with him at the apartment.”

“And was your information correct?”

“No. After… what happened, the police checked on this information, and it turned out to be a false trail. There wasn’t any connection between the victim and the bounty. It was probably a misdirect.”

“Is that possible?”

“Yeah, there is a lot of competition in my line of work. First to arrive is first to serve. So sometimes it happens that a bounty hunter will leave false information to mislead others when they have a strong lead.”

“I see. So there wasn’t any connection between the victim and the criminal you were looking for.”

“Not that I am aware of. Only the false connection between my bounty and the victim.”

“I know, that was not really a question, the police already checked Mister Pollux’s criminal records and connections. There isn’t any.”

Allura touches Shiro’s shoulders and he startles. He only noticed now that he was holding his breath.

“The jury likes him, I can tell,” she murmured in his ear. “They are trying to give him the aspect of a good, naive boy. He doesn’t tell more than he knows, doesn’t give personal opinions. That is something the jury appreciates. You will have to turn it around.”

“Sure,” Shiro croaks.

He looks at Keith: he seems at ease, but his face is almost stone, at least as far as Shiro can tell. Even his voice, despite his usual low tone, sounds monochrome.

Iverson continues, “So, about the night of the murder. Tell the jury what you saw.”

“The victim returned home. It was approximately seven-thirty. Then, about an hour later, a woman entered the same way.”

“And did you recognize this woman?”

“I didn’t know who she was back then.”

“And now? Is she in this courtroom?”

“Yes.” Keith lifts his arm to point his index finger at Romelle. “She’s the defendant.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it was dark, and you were on the opposite side on the street…”

“I’m sure. I also have photos of her, if you want to check.”

Iverson turns to the judge. “I wish to record as proof the photos taken by the witness.” He puts on the table two photos. “You can very clearly see the defendant and the main gate of the apartment.”

“That’s fine,” the judge nods and lets the photos be passed to the jury. “Please, continue.”

“Then, what happened?”

“The police arrived. That’s why I decided to speak with Officer Griffin about my surveillance.”

“How much time passed between the defendant’s arrival and the police’s?”

“Between forty and fifty minutes, I think. I didn’t check the clock immediately after the police’s arrival.”

“So, do you think the defendant called the police right away? Or did she take some time to do… other things?”

“Objection!” Shiro shouts. He still has a job to do, no matter how shocked he is of his master’s presence. “The prosecutor is asking for a witness’ opinion. It’s irrelevant.”

“Granted,” the judge says.

“I’ll explain better,” Iverson nods. “After you spoke with Officer Griffin, you went back with him to the police station, correct? The same station where the call of the about murder was received?”

“Yes.”

“And how long was the journey to the station?”

“Around ten minutes, I think. Pretty fast.”

“So between the defendant’s arrival and the police’s, we can assume there are around thirty minutes unaccounted for, so we can assume the defendant didn’t call the police as soon as she entered the apartment.”

“Objection! Prosecutor is leading the witness, your honor.”

“Granted.”

Iverson nods. “Mister Kogane, did you think that it was the defendant who had called the police?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because… I guess too much time passed between her arrival and that of the police.”

“Enough time to commit a murder, and remove her fingerprints from the murder weapon?”

“Objection!” Shiro jumps in.

“No further questions, your honor.”

The judge nods to Shiro’s bench. “The defense can now question the witness.”

“Remember,” Allura tells Shiro, “we have a plausible explanation from the time-lapse. Just focus on discrediting what Kogane saw.”

Shiro nods. Easier said than done.

He walks up until he faces Akira – Keith Kogane, his mind supplies immediately. Keith looks at him and his expression doesn’t change, except for a tiny bite of his lip. Of course, Keith recognizes Shiro, but there’s nothing either of them can do about it.

Shiro clears his throat. “Mister Kogane, did you see Miss Pollux entering her brother’s apartment?”

“No. I was outside the building.”

“Did you see Miss Pollux carrying a knife?”

“No.”

“Did you see Miss Pollux stabbing her brother with a knife?”

“No.”

“Did you see Miss Pollux cleaning the murder weapon, or hiding evidence before calling for the police?”

“No.” Keith looks a little annoyed by all the questions.

Shiro turns to Allura, and she shakes her head slowly. Even if the testimony isn’t about the murder itself, it’s still enough doubt for the jury to believe Romelle. Shiro takes a deep breath.

“Mister Kogane, is it true you got expelled from the police academy because you attacked another cadet?”

Keith’s eyes widened and for a second, he loses his cool and looks like Shiro had just slapped him. He wasn’t expecting this line of questioning, and neither did Iverson from the look of it.

“Objection! This is irrelevant!”

“It’s about the witness’ credibility, your honor,” Shiro explains, and the judge nods.

“Rejected. The witness can answer.”

“Yes,” Keith whispers.

“Can you tell us why?”

“I’d prefer not to. It’s not something I speak of with pleasure.”

Shiro looks at the judge, who says, “I understand, but you’re under oath. Please answer.”

Keith doesn’t look happy but complies. “He said something I didn’t appreciate. I overreacted.”

“So would you say that you’re prone to violence.”

“No… I… that happened years ago.”

“From the record of the bounties you’ve captured, at least half of them arrived at the police station with visible bruises and wounds.” Shiro returns to his bench and grabs a folder. Before he has a chance to bring it to the judge, Keith already answers.

“That happens when you try to take someone in unwillingly. You can check with the other bounty hunters around, they have the same records than me. I get bruises and wounds all the time from my bounties, it's not one-sided!”

So he can lose his cool. Shiro starts to feel the usual excitement when the witness is going where he wants. Together with an enormous sense of guilt, which is a new feeling, but it’s not every day that he gets to question his master on the stand.

“You told us your lead on Mister Pollux was fake,” Shiro continues, as he walks back to Keith. “You were angry, I guess.”

“I don’t-”

“Maybe you were tired of waiting every evening for nothing. You might have gotten a little… eager, would you say?”

“No-”

“Did you go to Mister Pollux’s apartment… to talk? To make him reveal what he knew about the bounty?”

“N-no-”

“Did things escalate? Maybe he didn’t want to tell you anything and maybe you thought threatening him with a knife would be helpful.”

“N-no-”

“And then maybe you accidentally killed him and you were shocked, so you just cleaned what you could before running and then Miss Pollux arrived. How convenient for you that you could point her out to the police. A nice catch with the photo, that was convenient too-”

Keith jumps up and smashes his hand on the wooden desk in front of him. “No! I didn’t! Stop it!”

“Objection!” Iverson manages to interrupt Shiro’s monologue. “The defense is speculating! The witness is not under process!”

The judge observes Shiro with a tired look. “Please, Mister Shirogane, save it for the conclusive summation.”

“I apologize, your honor,” Shiro says before his eyes return to Keith. He sat down again and he looks tired and disappointed. “Just one last question, Mister Kogane. You don’t have anyone that can verify that you remained hiding in front of the building, right? You don’t have an alibi.”

“No. I don’t,” Keith spits out.

Shiro turns, giving the jury a nod and then returns to his bench. He ignores Allura’s hand on his shoulder to follow Keith with his eyes as he leaves the stand and settles down in the back corner of the courtroom. When the judge calls for a suspension, he’s the first one to leave the courtroom.

Two days later, the jury declares Romelle Pollux not guilty.

On the same day, Shiro receives a message from Lotor.

_Dear Customer,_

_Your appointment schedule for Thursday, 06:30 P.M._

_Has been canceled due to an unpredictable cause._

_We’ll reschedule as soon as possible._

_We apologize for the inconvenience._

_L. Sincline, Manager_

Shiro doesn’t believe in coincidence.

_Can I ask why?_

_Master Akira has become unavailable_

_For the appointment you requested_

_L. Sincline, Manager_

_Fine. Can you sign me up for Master Akira’s_

_Next free spot?_

_I apologize, but it looks like Master Akira_

_Will be unavailable for the time being._

_The date of his return is undetermined._

_May I suggest you make an appointment_

_With another Master? If you’d prefer,_

_We can schedule a meeting and_

_evaluate your other options._

_L. Sincline, Manager_

_No thanks. Just call me as_

_Soon as Master Akira returns_

_As you wish._

_But, if I may, don’t expect it_

_To be soon._

_L. Sincline, Manager_

Shiro gives himself two weeks, before asking Pidge to find Keith’s address for him.

And one day after that before showing up at Keith’s door.

Keith’s surprised expression turns immediately into a frown. “How did you find my house?”

“I have friends,” Shiro replies, vague. Pidge’s doing this is pretty much illegal after all. He gives Keith a small smile. “May I come in?”

Keith turns his head a little to the back, looking inside his apartment, then shrugs. “Sure.” He moves from the door to let Shiro in and then closes the door. “Would you like something to drink? Water, beer?”

“No, thank you.”

Shiro glances around the two-roomed flat: in the right corner is a kitchenette with a small desk used as a dinner table, just next to the window. On the other side, a closed door must lead to the bedroom, Shiro guesses. A patched-up red sofa sits in the center of the room, right in front of a small, low table with a television and a tablet placed to it.

He sits down on the sofa and points out the empty dishes on the table. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your dinner.”

“No, it’s fine,” Keith replies. “Do you mind…?” And he gestures at the dishes.

After Shiro shakes his head, he takes the dishes, places them in the sink and starts to wash them. For a while, the only sound in the room is the water flowing. Shiro observes Keith; from this position, he sees his back and his hair hanging freely, running down his shoulders. He wears a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a look more casual than Shiro is used to.

Not that he minds.

“So, what can I do for you, Mister Shirogane?” Keith finally interrupts the silence.

“Shiro. Everyone calls me that.”

“Shiro,” Keith repeats, and Shiro takes his time to appreciate how his name sounds in Keith’s voice.

“I’d like to apologize for what happened back in court. I don’t think you’re a killer.”

“It’s fine.” Keith shrugs. “I know the lawyers’ methods, and, to be fair, I didn’t think she was the culprit.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Even if I have no idea how the real culprit managed to leave the building without anyone noticing,” Keith says. “Maybe they hid in one of the other apartments. Who knows. The police’s investigation became sloppy after they thought they find their man. Or woman, in this case.”

“I see,” Shiro hums. “Then, why did you cancel our session?”

He can’t help but notice as Keith stiffens a little. “I need a break.”

“A break from the job, or a break from me?”

At this, Keith doesn’t answer. He turns back to the sink, even though he finished washing the dishes. It’s an answer on its own.

“I understand it might be uncomfortable, since now we’ve met outside the club,” Shiro continues, “but I don’t want that to ruin it for us. I still need it.” Need you, he thinks.

“The club has a lot of other masters,” Keith replies.

“I don’t want another master. I want you.”

“You don’t even know me.” Keith turns to face Shiro at last. “I may be the worst master ever for all you know.”

Shiro shoots him a very unconvinced glare. “Tell me one reason, one real reason why I should go.”

Keith takes a deep breath. “The relationship between a master and their slave is different from case to case. Some become a couple, most remain strictly professional. And it’s fine.” Shiro listens intently as Keith speaks. “For this reason, real life can be an obstacle. I’ve heard of some masters that are unable to see their slaves as different in real life and, once they do, they are unable to be their master again.”

“Is that’s what's happened here?”

“No. I think that is what's happened to _you_. You just… you’ll get to think back to the questioning, and not be able to see me as your master any more.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“You say that now,” Keith replies, with a little snort. “But I’m not taking the chance. That’s it.”

Shiro looks at him with a slight frown. Keith is scared to lose him. So scared that he’s the first one to run away. It is… reassuring, in a way.

“Even if I do,” he comments, “why would you care? I’m just a client. You get the money and then find a new client. I’m pretty sure you have a lot of work at the club.”

To better make his point, he takes out the wallet and places three bills on the table, underneath the tablet. It’s more than how much Shiro usually pays from one session, and for sure more than how much Lotor pays his masters. Keith looks at the money for half a second before turning his face away.

That’s another answer by itself.

It’s not about the money, and it’s not about the job.

So Shiro isn’t the only one to feel this connection.

“I won’t give up on you,” he says. “So, please, do not give up on yourself.”

Slowly, he takes off his clothes and folds them on the sofa. The leather jacket, the black t-shirt, the pants with the belt, all piled as he was used to.

“What… What are you doing?” There is a hint of panic in Keith’s voice.

Shiro only answers once he’s completely naked. “This is what my master taught me.”

Keith looks on the verge of tears, with his pursed lips and the big shining eyes. But he doesn’t cry, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he’s master Akira.

“Bedroom. Now.”

The bedroom is small, with only twenty centimeters around the bed to walk. The walls, from the bathroom’s door and the window are occupied by furniture. But the bed is a queen size and the mattress is soft.

Shiro waits there, kneeling down on the mattress, looking at the wall in front of him, with a big poster of the band Nightwish. Keith opens one of the drawers in the dresser and throws three rolls of red ropes onto the bed.

It’s been a while since he used the ropes on Shiro last, and Shiro guesses Keith wants to test him.

As long it’s not the chair, he should be fine.

Still, he can’t help his rushed breathing and the anxious shivers that block his throat from time to time.

It’s also the first time Keith ties him up so tightly. The ropes around his calves and the mattress keep Shiro to the bed, kneeling; and his wrists aren’t tied simply together, but the ropes trap his arms to the side and coil around his chest. Shiro can feel them straining every time he breathes.

Keith finishes tying him up with a black handkerchief around Shiro’s head, to cover up his eyes.

_Okay with: bondage_

_Soft limit: blindfold_

“You know, I was wrong about you,” Keith says. “I thought you were a doctor. I kinda liked imagining you with the white coat.”

“We can do that kind of role-play if you’d like,” Shiro says. It’s a weak reply: there is an increasing sense of panic inside him, but he doesn’t want to quit. Not now. “I get the sense that Lotor has a lot of costumes around.”

He can imagine Keith as he shrugs. “I like this better. And there is something I imagined doing back in court.”

Shiro’s fears flow away instantly, as Keith kisses his cheek.

_Soft limit: kiss_

His lips brush Shiro’s skin, following the line of his jaw before sliding down to his neck. Keith avoids every scar, and his nipples, but every other part of Shiro’s skin is being marked by those lips. Keith’s mouth is soft, and warm, and slightly humid, and the feeling remains even when he moves to kiss somewhere else. When he shifts to the back and starts to kiss along Shiro’s nape, just brushing the white hair, Shiro understands he wants more.

The feeling of those lips on his skin isn’t enough. He wants to taste it. Being tied up doesn’t matter anymore.

“You were gorgeous in court, Champion,” Keith says, and he’s short of breath. “I felt like I was the slave back then. Take this as a… way to show my appreciation.”

“You missed a spot,” Shiro says, eager.

“Where?”

“My mouth.”

_Hard limits: kiss on the mouth, making out_

Keith is in front of him again, he can feel his presence and his breath on the face.

“A good questioning and a couple of weeks without me and look how undisciplined you’ve become,” Keith chuckles. “Since when you can demand things? Since when can you _talk_?”

“Please, Sir, I just asked for a kiss.”

“And you think you deserved it?”

“No, Sir.”

“But you still want it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I will have to punish you for this.”

“Yes, Sir. Just, please… Sir”

_Okay with: punishment (as long as it isn’t excessive), spanking_

The feeling of kisses on his skin is disappearing. Shiro doesn’t want to lose that feeling. “Please, Sir, I’ll do everything you want… just…”

Keith’s hands are suddenly on his face and his mouth presses against Shiro’s, to shut him up. The fingers brush through his hair as they keep kissing, and Shiro does his best to reciprocate. Wiggling around his arms, he struggles because he wants to touch Keith back; to sink his hands into his dark hair and to pull him close.

Instead, he can’t even see him.

The blindfold slides down the face and Shiro blinks to help his eyes adjust to the light again. Keith is in front of him, his eyes shining over slightly red cheeks. You’re beautiful, Shiro would like to say, but the handkerchief is now in his mouth.

_Soft limit: gag_

“No more talk from you today,” Keith murmurs, as his index finger presses against Shiro’s lips through the handkerchief. “Now, bend down for your punishment.”

The new position is even more uncomfortable, his calves still trapped against the mattress and the back curved to rest his head on the soft pillow. Shiro swallows trying to adapt, but he feels no more panic in himself. He tries to licks his lips under the handkerchief.

He just wants Keith back.

“Since you’re a good kisser, you’ll get only ten this time, five for each.”

That’s the only warning Shiro receives before Keith’s hand slaps against his right buttock. Shiro whimpers a little and releases a small whine under his gag. After the first slap, Keith waits, and only once he’s sure Shiro is okay does he enforces his punishment.

The spanking lasts only ten slaps as Keith promised, and it isn’t even painful. The slaps echo in the room loudly, and Shiro can’t help but struggles at every one of them. Even if what he would like to ask for more, more, because he wants another kiss; and he’s ready to take all the punishment for it. He wants more of Keith’s hands, more of-

“Shiro.” Keith’s tone is serious, as is the use of his name. “You’re hard.”

A muffled, embarrassed sound emits from Shiro’s throat, as he turns his face to hide himself in the pillow.

_Hard limits: sex, sexual intercourse, masturbation, hand job, blowjob, everything related to sex_

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s a play. It’s therapy. It’s isn’t… He wasn’t… God, he wants Keith so bad. And he just ruined everything. Now Keith has a reason to dump him as a client. The master isn’t the only one that needs to respect boundaries.

The tips of Keith’s fingers are on Shiro’s shoulder. “Give me the Safeword,” he orders.

Shiro snaps his fingers three times, and he turns his head to look at Keith: there is a straight expression on his face. He caresses Shiro’s cheek a little.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Use it as soon as I do something uncomfortable, okay? _Immediately_.”

Shiro’s gaze can’t follow him entirely as Keith places himself on the mattress, between Shiro’s spread legs. The first touch is hesitant, just a brush around the tip.

_Hard limits: hand job_

No Safeword is used. Shiro inhales deeply and then tries to hold his breath as Keith’s movements become faster, firmer. The handkerchief isn’t enough to hide Shiro’s moans.

Too much time passes for Shiro. He hasn’t done this since Adam, and they broke up almost a year ago. He presses his eyes and his mouth shut as he comes, a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

“I spoil you too much,” Keith comments. He’s again at Shiro’s side, brushing his hair from his face before sliding the handkerchief down to Shiro’s chin. “Be good for me, okay?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

As the ropes are removed, Shiro lies down more comfortably on the mattress. He hasn’t felt so relaxed in a very long time. Even if his butt stings and his arms and shoulders and back and legs are completely stiff because of the strange position he was in.

Keith doesn’t ask him to move. He takes a lotion to rub on Shiro’s skin in the places the ropes had been tied and the spanking left marks.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispers, once he recollects his thoughts.

“For what?” Keith’s hands are on his back, where the ropes had trapped his arms against his torso.

“I know your limits too. I forced you out of your comfort zone.”

“I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. Just because you’re in charge, doesn’t mean you can force me to do anything.”

Shiro rolls onto his back, and stretches his neck. “I’m not sure, haven’t I just forced you back into being my master?”

Keith shoots him a smile. “I’ve _definitely_ spoiled you too much.”

But he doesn’t negate it, he just moves behind Shiro to massage his sore shoulders.

“Does that mean we’re good?” Shiro asks.

“…we’re good.”

Shiro leans a little more against him and closes his eyes. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

That’s the last thing Shiro remembers, besides Keith’s touch on his skin, before waking up the next morning.

It’s clearly morning, both by the light coming from the window, and the time on the clock that signs 09:23. Shiro groans to himself; he can’t believe he fell asleep, not in that situation.

Keith’s not there.

But there is a message from him, in the same place Shiro had left the money the night before. The money was back in his wallet.

_You sleep so well and I don’t have the heart to wake you up. I hope it’s alright. Be my guest, just close the door when you leave. Call me if you have any problems. K._

There was a new number on his cellphone.

And there were signs of someone having slept on the couch last night.

And there were clean towels in the bathroom.

And breakfast ready for him in the kitchen.

God, Shiro thinks, as he sinks into the couch.

He may definitely be in love.


	5. Fifth play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith makes two very bad decisions.
> 
> Warnings: bondage, sex toys (dildo), blowjobs, orgasm delay

It’s a big mistake. A gigantic, enormously stupid mistake.

Shiro wasn’t supposed to return to Keith’s apartment. He wasn’t supposed to lie down naked in Keith’s bed, legs wide open and ankles tied up on the bed’s end board. He wasn’t supposed to stay there, hands tied up together behind his head, blocked against the bed’s headboard. And Keith’s crop wasn’t supposed to brush at the base of Shiro’s penis to arouse him.

Yet here they are.

_Hard limits: sex, in any form, any sexual intercourse, anything, I just don’t do sex okay?_

If Keith wanted to maintain appearances, he would have asked Shiro to meet again at the club. A master-slave professional relationship. But they’re beyond that phase of their relationship, since the first time Keith refused Shiro’s payment.

But it’s true he doesn’t want Shiro’s money. He likes being Shiro’s master. Really likes it. He can’t look at him and think about any other clients.

He doesn’t have sex with other clients. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t need to.

To be fair, Keith doesn’t have a clear word for their relationship.

Until now, Keith’s Shiro’s master, and that’s it.

And, as a master, he learns how to recognize when Shiro is at his limits. And when to stop right before it.

“Nooo…” Shiro complains. “Sir, please…”

“Not yet. You haven’t cried yet and that is absolutely mandatory.”

Shiro releases an annoyed snort and shoots a glare at Keith. Keith smirks: any time he lets Shiro speak during sessions, Shiro becomes very bratty in his requests. He rewards it with a crop slap on Shiro’s right buttock.

“Something wrong, Champion?”

Shiro presses his lips. “No.”

The crop slides along Shiro’s chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sir.” He whimpers as the crop smashes against one of his nipples. “I’ll do what you say, Sir.”

“Good. I bought a little present for you and you just earned it.”

The crop brushes against Shiro’s penis one last time, getting a low moan out of Shiro, before Keith opens one of the drawers and takes out a red sack, tied with a red ribbon. He comes back to stand in front of Shiro before slowly opening it.

Shiro’s eyes go wide at the sight of the black vibrator in Keith’s hand. “Oh, no, no, no, please, Sir, no, no, I don’t want it, please…”

“It’s rude to refuse a present,” Keith states, as he collects the lube and lets it dirty his fingers.

Keith hadn’t had lube in his apartment before Shiro. He didn’t need it, just like he didn’t need condoms or sex toys. And now he goes and buys them because he doesn’t trust using ones from Lotor’s club. Shiro’s sex toys should be used by Shiro and nobody else.

It’s something Keith is trying to ignore at the moment, more focused on Shiro’s reactions than anything. Even if recently Keith started to use more and more ropes, he doesn’t miss the stiffness of Shiro’s body at the beginning of every session.

It’s true Shiro hasn’t had any attacks since the day they used the chair, but Keith isn’t going to take the risk. It may happen again, and Keith has to be prepared for that.

_Hard limits: ~~sex toys, anal penetration~~_

_Soft limits: sex toys, anal penetration_

“What are the four moons of Pluto?” he asks. His fingers rub around Shiro’s hole and his eyes are fixed on Shiro’s face.

His breath is hard and his eyes are lucid, but he looks more eager than scared. His cheeks are dark red and his mouth his half-opened, lips damp. “Please, Sir…. Let me come first…”

“Do you earn it?” Keith’s finger slips inside.

Shiro releases a small sob. “N-no…”

“And what do you have to do to earn it?”

“Cry.” Shiro arches his back as Keith presses the vibrator inside him.

“Good. So now you’ll take my present without complaining as you work it out.”

At first, Keith remains still in front of Shiro, admiring the way Shiro’s body wiggles under his restraints and the working vibrator. How his muscles flex, and how the sweat enlightens his skin.

_Soft limits: scars_

They don’t talk about the scars. Keith would like to kiss every one of them, tell him everything is fine and that he’s still gorgeous, but he does not dare to.

But he dares to make Shiro cry. He still doesn’t know what Shiro went through in the past, but he can imagine how he endured it. Now, it’s time for him to let it go.

And there it is, the first tear, slowly coming out of Shiro’s hazel eye, and sliding down the cheek to the sheets. Shiro doesn’t even notice at first, not until the third tear brushes his lip.

He releases a small sob. “K-Keith, please…”

Immediately, Keith turns off the vibrator and throws it on the ground. “I’m here. It’s over.” He sits down next to him on the mattress and caresses his head. Shiro leans into the touch.

“I’m being good…”

“The best. And you earned it.”

Another thing Keith has learned is that Shiro is pretty loud when he isn’t ordered to shut up. Keith enjoys every single high moan as he sucks him off. And he smirks at the satisfied groan as he makes Shiro come.

He isn’t good at this. He isn’t a sex master, in any way. But still, Shiro appreciates it…

Before freeing Shiro from his restraints, he again caresses Shiro’s head and kisses his face along the tear tracks. Shiro’s breath and body relax under his touch.

“This… was intense,” Shiro comments, once he has his arms free and manages to get in a more sitting position.

Keith checks his left wrist to see if the ropes did some damage. There should be just the usual marks after the session. “Are there any particularly sore points where I should apply the cream?” he asks, as he moves to releases Shiro’s feet too.

“Well, my ass, for sure.” Shiro raises his eyebrows and smiles, to which Keith answers with a small shake of his head. “But I’ll gladly accept a back massage. It’s a bit sore.”

He lies down on his chest, hands behind the pillow where his head rested. Keith takes a second to throws the ropes and the vibrator on the dresser before sitting down next to him and massaging his shoulder.

“Too intense?” he asks.

“No,” Shiro answers. “I… Still panic a little at first, when you tied me. But then, I know I’m still in control and I manage to calm down. I haven’t had any more black-outs, don’t worry.”

Keith nods. Of course, he worries. It’s his job as a master. And, well, he doesn’t want to screw this up.

“You bought a dildo for me,” Shiro states, as Keith remains silent.

“I don’t know how you can make that sound romantic.”

Shiro laughs. “Well, it’s not exactly something I can go outside and gloat about. But can’t I be happy my master bought something for me?”

There’s too much implication in that sentence. Keith has to shut it down. Every fiber of his body screams danger.

_Hard limits: getting attached to people_

“That’s what masters do. They reward slaves when they behave.”

“Would you have done that at the club too?” Shiro insists.

“I can ask Lotor to buy new toys. He’s always okay with spending money if the clients are happy.”

“You didn’t have problems with Lotor, right?” Shiro asks.

“For what?”

“For us. I mean, we kinda climbed over him. You’re working for free and he lost a client.”

“He can’t be hurt if he doesn’t know.” Keith shrugs. It’s a little too late to worry about that. “Besides, the club has a lot of clients, it won’t be damaged by you leaving.”

Shiro turns a little and lets Keith hugs him from behind. “You have a lot of clients?”

“Not as many as the others. After all, it’s my second job, and I have the hardest limits. But yes, there is a lot of work there.”

“Uhm.” Shiro stiffens a little. Keith fears he may have overstepped some boundaries, but when he tries to remove his arms, Shiro grabs them to keep him close. “And how are your clients?”

“Fine. They’re clients.” That answer is a mistake because it implies that Shiro isn’t. This is true, but that doesn’t mean Keith is ready to acknowledge it out loud. “Recently, I have mostly women.”

“Oh. You’re bi, then?”

“Would that be a problem?”

“Of course not.” Shiro rolls over so he’s facing Keith. “I was just-”

“It’s not about sex. I don’t do sex with my clients, and they don’t want to have sex with me.” Unlike you. Unlike us. “They want a master to order them around, and that’s it. Men or women, it doesn’t matter.”

“Ah, sure. That's true.”

“But to answer your question, I’m not bi. I’m more in the ace-spectrum.”

“I see.” Shiro seems more relaxed now, and he curls more against Keith’s chest. “I’m gay. Like, very gay. So at first, I wondered if I should choose a female master… but Lotor said he doesn’t have a female master with all my hard limits, and having met Zethrid, I think I dodged a bullet.”

Keith chuckles. “She has the least limits of all the masters, but yes, the others may be very hard on their sessions too. They told me I’m almost too vanilla for them.”

“I’m fine with it,” Shiro murmurs.

“That’s because I spoil you. You get away with a lot of things the others don’t.”

Shiro stiffens once again and tightens his hold on Keith. “That’s because I’m your favorite slave.”

It isn’t a question. As if the fact that Keith lets him in his apartment, in his _bed_ , and has sex with him isn’t enough of a give away about Keith’s preferences.

And, if it wasn’t impossible, Keith would think Shiro was a little bit jealous of his other clients.

In that case, he shouldn’t be. It’s just a job.

“Keith,” Shiro calls.

“What?”

A moment of silence. “Nothing. Do you want to shower first?”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. I just want to rest a little bit more.”

“Okay.”

After a last brush against Shiro’s white hair (an angel), Keith moves to the bathroom. He ignores the fact that nowadays there is always a towel ready for Shiro as he enters the showers. It doesn’t mean anything. Like, it doesn’t mean anything that Keith bought Shiro’s favorite brand of shampoo.

It’s not like Shiro has his toothbrush and a change of clothes in Keith’s apartment. No, wait, he _has_ a change of clothes, since that day when they role-played a professor-student scene. Damn.

But he doesn’t have the toothbrush.

_Hard limits: guests at home, any kind of relationship_

“All yours,” Keith announces once he gets back from the bathroom. He's again dressed in his clothes. He sits down at the edge of the bed and watches as Shiro stretches. His muscles stand out even more and Keith tries to not watch at them too much.

Since it’s warm, Keith doesn’t dry his hair, he just puts it up in a high ponytail. While Shiro showers, he puts the dirty sheets in the washing machine and makes the bed. He’s almost finished when the doorbell rings.

With a frown, Keith moves towards the door. He’s not expecting anyone. “Yes?” he asks, behind the closed door.

“Delivery,” answers a voice.

From the peephole, Keith can confirm it is indeed a delivery boy, with two pizza boxes and two cans. He didn't order them.

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong address,” he says, as he opens the door.

The boy looks at the paper on his hands. “Red Lion street number 23, flat 2?”

“Y-yes, but I didn’t order anything.”

“The order was made by a Mister Shirogane?”

Oh. _Oh._

His face obviously says enough, because the boy shoves the boxes into Keith’s arms and turns around.

“Wait! What about the payment?”

“Already paid. Geez, you don’t know how _Just Eat_ works, do you?”

Keith closes the door, thinking he doesn’t deserve to be scolded for that. He knows very well how it works, it’s just… Shiro ordered food for them. Without telling him. And, by a quick look at the delivery, he also ordered Keith’s favorite pizza, the one with mushrooms and sausage. For himself, of course, Shiro took the pineapple one.

“Oh, just in time.” Shiro stands in the bedroom’s doorway, with only his pants on and brushing a towel through his still wet hair. “Since it’s a bit late, I thought I’d offer you dinner…” There is a hesitant smile on his face.

Keith passes his gaze from the boxes still in his arms to Shiro and vice versa.

_Hard limits: I don’t do relationships, I just don’t, okay, I’m not good with it_

“Yeah, sure. But we have to eat on the couch because I only have one chair, and the table isn’t big enough for two.”

“No problem.” Shiro takes his place on the couch immediately, leaving the towel on the armrest, and grabs the box Keith is passing him. Keith watches in awe as he opens the diet coke can and takes a big sip from it. Watching how he stretches his neck and at the way the Adam’s apple moves.

“I have glasses, you know.”

“Nah, I don’t want to use them or we’ll have to wash them later.”

He opens the box and takes the first slice of pizza.

Keith is doomed. So, so doomed.

The point is that Shiro is easy to talk to. Despite being very scary in court, and despite his secret and terrible adventure that gave him PTSD, he’s definitely like a puppy. Friendly and charming. And, worst of all, he’s interested in Keith. Well, not in Keith-Keith, in the master version of Keith, which is a problem of its own. But one Keith isn’t ready to face right now, not when Shiro is laughing at one of Keith’s comments about how utterly garbage the new Star Wars movies are.

Keith doesn’t stand a chance, and he knows it. He lost the moment Shiro walked through his door that first time.

“Well, I should go,” Shiro says, at a certain point later.

He waits for a second and, Keith realizes, he’s waiting to see if Keith invites him to stay.

And, with more horror, Keith realizes he would have asked if it wasn’t for the work he planned for the night.

As the silence stretches, Shiro understands. “Thank you for the evening.”

“Thank you for the dinner,” he replies, and he dies a little inside.

_Okay with: works, works before people, works_

Shiro finishes dressing and collects his things. “Text me when you’re free for another session or something. Anytime, really. Unless we have a very hard case, I can schedule a free evening.”

“Of course.” Keith understands, Shiro is throwing the ball in his court. His move. He doesn’t make any. “Have a nice evening, Shiro.”

“You too.” Shiro remains a couple of seconds at the door, before smiling and leaving.

Keith closes the door and takes a minute to recollect himself.

Work. He has work to do.

He takes his time to sanitize the vibrator, and hang the ropes in the bathroom to dry, before getting ready. He puts his black jacket on, his boots and puts his gun in the holster at his lower back. Bounty hunting can become dangerous at times, he needs to be prepared.

With his bike, he reaches the port in twenty minutes. He doesn’t park too close, he doesn't want to be spotted by the surveillance. From his daily exploration, he knows of a spot where he can enter without being seen, and he uses it to reach the right containers’ area.

The blue one with the white inscription “R.A.1.V.3.1.G.”. Finding it in the dark on a cloudy night isn’t easy, but once he does, he doesn’t take his eyes off it. He hides behind another container, cell phone in his right hand.

The drugs should be inside the blue container. Keith has no idea how the drugs are hidden inside to pass through customs, and he doesn’t care. He’s waiting for whoever is coming to collect them. Bandor Pollux should have been the most probable delivery boy, but he was killed, and, much to Keith’s disappointment, he still doesn’t know why or how.

Maybe the person that he’ll meet tonight can give him some answers.

The wind whistles in his ears and Keith hopes he can finish before it rains. Rain is a pain in the ass, it makes tracking hard and messes with his photo evidence.

Still, the wind is noisy enough to hide the sounds surrounding him. Luckily, Keith’s vision is good, and he notices the dark figure that approaches the container. Like Keith himself, the figure takes some time to identify the right container. Unlike Keith, once they find it, they take out a set of picklocks to open the doors. Keith takes a couple of pictures.

He waits until the figure steps out of the container with a box griped to their chest. Then he moves to follow them. He walks a couple of meters behind them, hiding from time to time behind other containers. The figure stops at the edge of the area and looks around, probably to be sure no one is following them.

With his attention so focused in front of him, the shot comes without warning. The bullet flies just past his head. The shot rings in Keith’s ears, momentary deafening him and Keith barely has the time to register what happened, before he sees the figure fall on their face, still clutching the box. 

He whips around, frantic, hand reaching for his gun, but it’s too late. The shooter was already close when he shot, and he's only gotten closer.

The last thing Keith remembers is the butt of a gun smashing into his head. When he wakes up, it's to a piercing pain in his right temple.

He groans, trying to lay still. He must have been out for a while because it’s raining: Keith is soaking wet and the ground is slippery. He still has a gun in his hand, so he puts it down so he can use both hands to push himself up. Only then does he notice that it wasn't his gun that was in his hand.

Once he manages to get on his knees, he sees the body in front of him. He wasn’t so close to where he saw the body fall before. He looks around: he definitely wasn’t so near before. Someone attacked him and then, someone _moved_ him.

_Fuck fuck fuck_

Before he can stand up, the lights of a car blind him. The light gives him just the time to take a brief look at the dead body in front of him.

_Narti?!_

“Stop right there! Hands on your head!”

With his breath increasing, Keith obeys. He remains kneeling, hands placed on the back of his head. Two policemen got out of the car, one with his gun pointed at Keith as the other one comes to handcuff his arms behind his back.

It starts a procedure Keith knows very well, even if it’s the first time he participates as the suspect. While the CSI and the ambulance arrive at the port, he’s brought back to the station, where they take his mug shot, fingerprints and swab his cheek for DNA. They confiscate his clothes as evidence and give him an inmate jumpsuit. Keith remains silent throughout the processing, letting them do their job until they close him into an interrogation room, where they let him sit for hours. He feels like everyone has already decided that he was the true culprit.

He doesn’t think the day can get any worse.

He’s wrong.

“So, Kogane, looks like recently you’re always first to the crime scene.”

“Griffin. My favorite officer.” Keith rolls his eyes, as Griffin takes his place in the chair across from him.

“Are you sure you want to take this case?”

“I asked for it.”

Keith turns his attention to Rizavi: she remains still, standing at the back of the room, but at least she has a small smile on her face. She seems to be sorry for his treatment.

Griffin opens the folder in front of him. “So, you were found, next to our victim and with the murder weapon in your hand. What do you have to say?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

“Come on, seriously?”

Keith nods.

“Well, if that doesn’t make you sound guilty, I don’t know what does. Except for the rest of the pieces of evidence, of course.”

Keith throws him a very unimpressed look. Griffin takes out a couple of photos from his folder and places them in front of Keith.

“You were near the victim. That was killed, with the gun you had, the one with your fingerprints on it. So, yeah, we really need an explanation. Because the only thing I can think of, the one everyone is thinking right now, is that you killed her.”

“I plead the Fifth,” Keith repeats. He could move his hair from behind his ear and show them the bump he has on his head, the small bruise on the side of his temple. But what’s the point? They had already seen it from the pictures that the CSI took, and they hadn’t even called a doctor.

“Do you know the victim?” Griffin points out at the photo of the body. “Narti Kova was her name. Was she a friend? A lover? Why were you at the port tonight?”

Yes, Keith knows her. She wasn’t really a friend, but Keith doesn’t doubt they will soon find the connection.

“Kogane,” Rizavi says, “I understand the situation looks bad, but we can help you if you tell us what happened. We can investigate, but your information would be a big help.” The smile was still there.

“Looks like I got it right, who’s going to be the good cop,” Keith smirks. “I still plead the Fifth.”

“Fine! It’s not like we need your testimony to incriminate you.”

Keith shakes his head. “I know my rights, Griffin. First of all, I still need my phone call. I have a right to speak to my lawyer. And you can’t keep me here for more than 24 hours _unless_ you charge me. Good luck finding enough evidence to show a judge before then.”

“I’ll have you charged before noon, I can assure you.”

“Fine, but first can I make my call?”

“Sure.” Rizavi nods and leads him to the nearest phone. Keith’s still cuffed, but she leaves him enough privacy for his call.

Two rings before an answer. “What happened?”

“I got arrested. For murder.”

“Did you plead the Fifth?”

“Of course.” Keith rolls his eyes: he isn’t a beginner. Not in this kind of situation at least.

“Good. Play with it, I’ll see what I can do.”

Keith hangs up not very comforted by the call. Still, he can’t expect a miracle, so he just rolls with the punches, hoping the situation isn’t as bad as it looks.

“Did you contact a lawyer?” Rizavi asks as she brings him back to his cell.

“No, I can’t afford it. Give me a court-appointed one.”

“Of course.” She smiles. “James isn’t a bad guy, but the judges around here are eager to close cases. So, you know, he might be able to charge you before noon.”

It’s another attempt to get Keith talking, a failed one. Because despite knowing deep down that she and Griffin are actually good cops, he can’t afford to talk.

And she was wrong: Griffin missed his self imposed deadline at noon. Though, he still manages to charge Keith within 24 hours, so it isn’t really a defeat.

The only lucky part of the situation was that he wouldn’t end up in prison until after they decide to his bail, so he remained in a holding cell at the station.

The annoying part of it was that both Griffin and the court-appointed lawyer tried to make him talk. The lawyer isn’t bad per se; Keith almost feels guilty for wasting his time. He isn’t the best of clients, and the lawyer is doing his best, especially when he suggests a confession for a plea deal, while Keith is just wasting time in hopes that someone can resolve the situation for him.

“They scheduled the hearing for your bail in two days,” the lawyer says. “But the data of your processing isn’t done yet, so we’re still in time for a plea deal. If we play it up as an accident, I can manage to get you a ten-year sentence, and with the good behavior, you can be out in seven or eight. I understand it doesn't seem like much, but you're risking potentially twenty years or more…”

“Thank you,” Keith says sincerely. “But I won’t confess.”

“What can I do at the hearing? At least, you can tell what happened.”

Keith shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t have the money to pay for the bail anyway.”

The lawyer looks defeated. “Fine. Do you have someone that can bring you other clothes for the hearing?”

“I don’t have anyone.”

“Not even a friend?”

For a second, Keith thinks of Shiro.

He told him he would call. He wonders if Shiro is worried. Or if he’s given up, convinced Keith isn’t interested in him, not even as a slave. More probably, he’s already been informed of Keith’s arrest, being a lawyer and everything. After all, Shiro already accused Keith once to be a killer. So, yeah, it’s not like he can call him.

“No. No one.”

“Fine. I’ll go to your apartment and take some clothes. Is that ok with you?”

Keith shrugs again. His apartment has already been violated already by the police, they found the ropes and everything. He’s been embarrassed enough already to not care.

And it’s not like it changes anything. He’ll be in prison in two days, and the clothes won’t matter anymore.

For that reason, he signs without reading when the guard brings him the papers for a new lawyer. Either the court-appointed lawyer got tired of his situation, or one of those attention-seeking lawyers believe his case is interesting enough to ask for it.

He really doesn’t care.

Even so, he still dresses up for the bail hearing in the suit they bring him, and he braids his hair. He has to admit he’s surprised the new lawyer was considerate enough to think about getting him an elastic for his hair too.

The biggest surprise of the day has yet to come, and it materializes in the form of his new lawyer waiting for him in court.

“Shiro…?”

How… what. Damn. Why the hell didn’t he read the name on the papers back then?

As soon as the guard takes off the handcuff, Keith rushes to his side of the bench.

“Shiro, what… how did you get here?”

Shiro gives him a soft smile.

“Let’s get you out of here, and then we’ll talk.”


	6. Sixth play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro lets Keith in his life and he's rewarded for it.
> 
> Warnings: binding, tickling, ass worshipping

The bail hearing is usually the boring part of a trial for Shiro. But, as Allura reminds him every time, it’s also very important to put his best foot forward, ahead of the prosecutor. And Shiro doesn’t like losing, and not getting the bail for a client _is_ losing.

Not going to happen, especially against Iverson.

“Mister Shirogane,” the judge says, after reading the documents the prosecutor gave her while attempting to convince her not to set bail. “Your opinion on this?”

“My client has a clear record, your honor. He also has a job very useful for the entire law enforcement community. I don’t think there is any reason to not grant him his freedom until a jury decides on his case.”

“A job that regularly puts him in contact with criminals,” Iverson points out. “It’s entirely possible that this murder has been committed during a gang war, and unfortunately the gang may have the resources to make the defendant disappear.”

“The prosecutor sounds like my client may be killed or is a flight risk,” Shiro comments. “I’m sure this isn’t going to happen, and that’s why I’m not worried about having him outside the prison.”

“Am I understanding that you intend to declare your client not guilty, Mister Shirogane?” the judge asks.

“Absolutely.”

“Excuse me, but weren’t you the one to say that the defendant is ‘prone to violence’?” Iverson states.

“You won’t use my own words against me,” Shiro replies. “Also, may I remind everyone that, during that trial, my client decided to testify on his own free will? The officers on the scene wouldn’t have even noticed his presence if he hadn’t revealed himself first. That should be proof enough of my client’s good tendency to respect the law.” He places a hand on Keith’s shoulder, who filches under his touch. “There is no reason to not grant him his freedom until his trial.”

“I agree with the defense here,” the judge says, much to Iverson’s disappointment. “The bail is set at $50,000.00 dollars. The hearing for the jury will be decided in the next day. You may go.”

“Shiro,” Keith says. “I don’t have that much money. Let’s alone, the money to pay your office. I thank you-”

Shiro’s hand is still on Keith’s shoulder and he tightens the grip a little. “Just let me sign a couple of papers and then I’ll get you out of here.”

“But-”

“We just won a big trial against an even bigger company. We can afford some Pro bono work, don’t worry.”

He goes and signs what he has to, before returning to Keith. He’s still there, waiting for Shiro. For a second, he thought that Keith would leave without him.

“Your clothes and your cell phone are still in evidence lockup,” Shiro informs Keith, “but I got back your bike.” He holds out the key in his hand. “It’s in the police impound. We can collect it later.”

“It’s fine,” Keith comments as he takes back the key. “It’s not like I can use it much anyway now.”

Shiro doesn’t have many words of comfort right now, just a way out. “I guess you’re tired and you probably want to go home, but we should pop into the office first. The sooner we start working on your case, the better.”

Keith looks intensely at him. “Are you sure you want to take my case? It’s just…”

“Don’t even ask,” Shiro says, and that’s the end of the discussion for him.

Allura’s law office is right in the center of the city, on the upper floor of one of the skyline buildings owned by her father. The location intimidates their opponents, she said. And Shiro can admit it is intimidating, of a sort, especially the mirrored conference room with all the computers.

When Shiro steps out of the lift, he can see all of them sitting at the table of the main meeting room, behind the glass walls. The team is already waiting for them. Allura lifts her head when she spots Shiro and a small frown appears on her face.

Shiro smiles at Keith and gestures for him to follow him in. “Hi, team!” he greets them.

None of them answer, their gazes moving between him and Keith. “Did you have any problems at the hearing?” Coran asks.

“No. Iverson was the procurator.”

“Piece of cake, then,” Lance smiles, even if Shiro doesn’t miss the suspicious look he gave Keith first.

Allura stands up. “Can we speak with you? In private?” she adds, before he can answer.

Shiro moves his gaze to Keith: he doesn’t like the idea of leaving him alone, and even less giving him the impression they’re talking about him behind his back. Keith just shrugs.

“Sure,” Shiro says then.

Hunk hurries to move a chair over to the table. “You can sit down here,” he says to Keith, with a small smile. “Sorry about all the confusion, we only received the details on your case this morning and we’re still figuring things out.”

“I understand,” Keith nods, but he takes a seat on the chair.

Allura is the first to move from the meeting room to her office and Shiro is the last one to enter. He closes the door behind him and turns to his team, his arms crossed. “So?” he demands.

“We did some research on the case,” Allura begins. “The police have found a connection between Kogane and the victim. They worked together in a club.”

“We should hear Keith’s version about it…”

Lance gets a little bit nearer. “A _BDSM_ club.”

Oh. That’s the reason of their strange behavior. Of course.

“Do you think that Keith’s preferences would affect our case?” Shiro asks, innocently. He isn’t going to answer any questions they don’t ask. If he has to be embarrassed, so will they.

Allura rolls her eyes. Pidge sighs. “Shiro, when you asked me to find Kogane’s address, I believed you when you said that it was because you wanted to apologize for revealing his past in court,” she comments. “I mean, it’s unusual, but I can understand. You’re a hopeless gay sometimes.”

It’s time for Shiro to roll his eyes.

“What Pidge is trying to say,” Allura continues, “is that we, your team, should know if there is something going on between you and Kogane. The worst thing that can happen to a lawyer is not knowing something during a trial.”

“What is between me and Keith is no one’s business but ours.”

“Oh, damn,” Lance exclaims. “What we want to know is if there is some dirty kink between you and Keith.”

“For… work purpose, of course,” Hunk adds, shooting a disapproving look at Lance. “Not for gossip.”

“What happened?” Lance pressed excitedly. “Did you get to his address and find his entire apartment set up with ropes and crops? Fifty Shades style?”

“Keith hates that book,” Shiro points out.

“Yeah, he might, but does he have a red room or not?”

“Lance, please,” Allura tries to stop him.

At that point, Shiro just grabs Lance’s shoulder and pulls him closer. “Yes, he has one,” he whispers in Lance’s ear, not nearly quiet enough for the other to avoid hearing. “Where he spanks me every night, because I’ve been such a bad boy.”

Lance’s cheeks bright red. “Woaw, that’s… uhm…”

Shiro releases him and turn to the other, they look equally embarrassed. “It was for therapy reasons,” he explains. It isn’t a lie, not entirely: it was at the start of all of this. “To be in a place where I can relieve what happened to me, but always having the control to stop it. My therapist suggested it in the first place, that is why I went to the club.”

“Wait!” Pidge exclaims. “So when you questioned Keith in court…”

“He was already my master, yes.”

“Shiro,” Allura says. There is a small hint of embarrassment in her voice too, but her gaze is sweet. “We’re not here to judge you for this. Especially if it’s helping you. You know we’re first and foremost your friends.”

“I know,” Shiro nods, with a smile.

“Judging you?” Lance recovered. “Man, I envy you. I wish I could go to a club like that and have a nice girl ordering me around…” His gaze wanders over the room, until he stops on Keith on the other side of the wall, still sitting down at the table alone. “I may not approve of your tastes, but man…”

“Oh, Lance, you’re such a hopeless straight,” Shiro comments. Pidge chuckles.

“However,” Allura continues, mild irritated by the interruption, “I am afraid that this situation can be used against you in court. It will not only affect the case, but you as well.”

Coran nods. “To my displeasure, this kind of things have still a social stigma. How unfortunate!”

They had a point.

“Lotor knows me,” Shiro comments, “but he signed an NDA. He can’t reveal the name of the clients, for privacy reasons. And I’ve never met anyone else from that club, I’ve only been in their private room. I don’t know the victim.”

Well, to be fair, he met Zethrid. But it’s a brief meeting, and Shiro was completely naked, with a mask that covered the lower part of his face, including the scar on the nose. And Zethrid looked more focused on torturing her slave than looking a Shiro. She may not even remember him.

Allura doesn’t look convinced. “We know other good lawyers,” she says. “We can help from the back, so we don’t risk the prosecution to using this against us…”

“Do we even know that Keith’s innocent?” Lance askss. “I mean, that is something we should take into consideration first, right?”

“He _is_ innocent,” Shiro states. “Allura, please. If there is anyone that can win this trial, it’s us. All of us. Please, just… speak with Keith.”

“Allura…” Coran murmurs.

She sighs. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

When they return back on the meeting room, she’s the first one to extend her hand to Keith, who stands up to shake it.

“Nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Allura Altea, the owner of the office.”

“Keith,” he replies. “You’re the psychologist, right?”

“Forensic psychologist, yes.”

Shiro sits down next to Keith. “I’ll introduce you to the team,” he says, as the other settle down around the table. “This is Coran, our neurolinguistics expert. Then Pidge, who is… our source of information, all legally, of course.”

“Well, this explains how you found my address,” Keith comments.

“ _Mostly_ legal,” Pidge points out, with a smirk.

“This is Lance, our private investigator,” Shiro ignores her and continues.

“Oh, we know each other,” Lance dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

“We do?” Keith frowns a little.

“We were at the same police school! We were rivals, like, neck to neck!”

Keith’s frowns increases. Shiro cuts out the conversation, “and Hunk… where’s Hunk?”

Hunk rushes in the room and places a large bowl of curry rice in front of Keith. “You must be hungry,” he says. “And I know the food at the prison is disgusting. I made it this morning.”

“Hunk is our witness’ expert,” Shiro explains. “He’s the best at preparing witnesses for the trials, and of course he likes taking care of our clients.”

“Can… Can I?” Keith asks. He takes a deep breath of the curry rice’s smell.

“Please.” Hunk encourages him with a small bump on his arm.

“This is… pretty good,” Keith murmurs, after a first bite. Hunk smiles satisfied.

“While you eat, there is something I want to discuss with you,” Allura says, as she takes one of the folders on the table and lays it open in front of Keith. “You plead the Fifth when you were arrested by the police, but we can’t defend you if we don’t know your truth. Can you tell us what happened?”

Keith turns his gaze a little towards Shiro, who places a hand on his shoulder, to encourage him to trust the others. So they sit and listen in silence as Keith eats and tells them about the events from the night of the murder, and about the mysterious culprit that knocked him down after killing Narti.

“So you don’t know the victim was Narti until the police told you?” Allura asks.

Keith shakes his head. “ I saw her body briefly as I was getting arrested, but I didn’t know she was the one taking the drugs from the container. And to be honest, she was not even on the list of people I expected to see there. I do not know why she was there. I mean, I know why, it’s just…”

“I understand,” Allura nods. She takes some notes and Pidge, at her side, typed on her tablet. “Do you know her well?”

“No. The work at the club…” Keith looks around, to see if someone wants to ask him further questions, “is not teamwork. We each have our own clients, and private rooms. I’ve met her at the club a handful of times, but actually talking with her… it happened two or three times at most, at the club parties. I don’t know anything about her besides her work at the club.”

“Party?” Lance enquired.

“I don’t think it’s a subject we should broach,” Allura comments.

“But of course it is,” Lance replies. “It’s where he and the victim talked, right?”

Shiro knows very well Lance’s interest isn’t as professional as he pretends to be. Still, he doesn’t stop him, because he is interested in the answer too.

“The parties are BDSM themed, of course,” Keith answers, in a very professional way. “Masters go there with their slaves, like in BDSM group sessions. It’s also possible that masters and slaves are there alone, in hopes of finding a match. Lotor organizes them from time to time to find new clients and new employees. That’s how I was hired too.”

“You were there with your slaves?” Shiro asks, and almost bites his tongue. This is definitely not a professional question. Hunk, on the other side of the table, coughs a little.

Keith shoots him a curious look. “No. I’ve never had… a slave outside of the work at the club, so I didn’t have anyone at that time.” Then, he adds, “some masters bring one of their clients, if they want to participate in that kind of event. I haven’t.”

“And Narti?” Shiro tries to bring the conversation back up to a safe level. “We can try to follow the theory that one of her clients is the murderer.”

“Yes, she was with a slave at the party. I don’t recall if it was always the same one, though.”

“And what about her work?” Lance intervenes. “What do you know about it?”

“She’s an expert on sensory deprived sessions,” Keith explains. “The removal of stimuli from the senses. Gags, blindfold, but also more advanced devices. I don’t know much more than that.”

Allura cuts in before Lance can ask further. “We can look to see if there is something suspicious in one of her clients.”

“On it,” Pidge comments.

“But the fact that Keith and the victim worked together it’s enough for the prosecution to convict. However it’s probably enough to sway the jury in their favor. ” Allura continues. “We need to prove someone else was at the crime scene. You’re sure you don’t know who told you about the drug delivery?”

“No,” Keith answers. “As I said, I received the tip at one of the pubs I frequent for information, the note was left for me by an anonymous source.”

“And you believed it?” Lance snorts.

“In my line of work, you end up dealing with all types of dangerous people. Normally, informants don’t want to get involved,” Keith retorts back.

“So we don’t have much to work with,” Allura sighs.

“What about the fact that Keith was hit?” Hunk proposes. “I mean, the prosecution has to justify the wound on Keith’s face.”

“If the culprit hit me with his gun, maybe there are some organic trace of myself on it,” Keith follows Hunk’s lead.

Shiro frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure I was hit with the gun, but the wound is compatible,” Keith says. “And he _did_ shoot Narti. The gun he used wasn’t mine. Mine disappeared.”

“Wait, what?” Allura blinks. “You had a gun?”

Keith nods. “I have a permit. I brought it with me that night because I didn’t feel safely unarmed, in a potential meeting with a drug dealer. I never used it, though. And when I woke up, my gun wasn’t there, and I had the other one in my hand.”

“Why did they take your gun?” Lance jumps in. “It would have been better for them to leave it there. Maybe around the victim, to stage a fake scene where you’re trying to kill each other.”

“Well, speaking about that, it’s also strange that they let Keith live,” Pidge adds. “There wasn’t anyone else around, and Keith could have recognized them since he hit him upfront.”

“Uhm, guys… do you realize you’re helping the prosecution right now?” Hunk comments.

“Well, it’s not my fault if Keith looks guilty!”

“Lance,” Shiro warns him.

“But he isn’t,” Allura affirms, “so we need to find a way. Pidge, I want deep research on the victim, see what you can find out about her.”

“It’s a challenge because she wasn’t on social media, but I can manage.”

“Lance, I want you to check with the police, see what they have. Find out what theories they’ll use in court. And please, go take a second look at the crime scene as well.”

“My pleasure. I have a meeting with Veronica tonight so I’ll get the freshest news about the case.”

“Hunk, check to see if we can find a psychologist or someone else who’s an expert in BDSM. I want to be prepared if the prosecutor tries to use it against Keith.”

“Sure.”

“Coran, you and I will prepare the questions for choosing the jury. I want people that don’t trust the police, or that have had a bad experience with them. Other than that, difficult clients. People that believe they don’t receive enough attention. We need a jury that may believe the police didn’t investigate deep enough.”

“On it, boss. This will be fun.”

“Shiro, I’ll leave the questioning to you.”

“Can I do it tomorrow?” he asks. “I think it’s the best for Keith if he rests for today. He’s been under a lot of stress recently.”

“I’m fine,” Keith comments. “What’s this questioning anyway?”

Allura shoots a deep look at Shiro, but in the end nods. “Sure, why not. After we check through the police’s evidence, we may be able to direct ourselves better. ”

“The questioning is just me listening in a loop to you talking about the incident,” Shiro explains, everyone else has to hustle to take care of their duties. “Even a small detail may be important, even if we don’t realize at first.”

“Okay. I can do it now.”

“Don’t you want to rest a little? Return home, having a real shower?”

“…yes,” Keith admits.

“We can do the questioning tomorrow. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Are you sure I can go there? Because of the investigation and everything…”

“They told me they finished processing your apartment. I just need to call them for the keys.”

When they reach Keith’s apartment, the officer is already there. He takes the seals off the door and makes Keith signs papers about the search warrant, before he gives back the keys. At first glance, the apartment looks untouched. Shiro is surprised to realize that he knows the place well enough, that he can recognize the small details that show someone else was inside it the past few days. Moving things and searching everywhere.

Keith heads towards the bathroom: he looks around, lips pressed.

“They took the ropes and the dildo,” Shiro informs him. “Since they were out the night of the attack... Maybe they’re looking for some DNA’s evidence.”

“They won’t find any, I washed those things,” Keith replies, in a tone that shows his anger. “I regret not having put them away.”

Shiro shrugs. “Maybe they would’ve taken them nevertheless.”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced. He looks at Shiro. “How can you be so calm? If they found out you were with me the night of the murder…”

“They won’t do anything about that,” Shiro replies. “I have an alibi, I was elsewhere at the time of the murder, and they won’t risk having me testify because I’m a lawyer myself. I live for this kind of thing.”

“If you say so…”

Keith’s gaze is low, and his shoulders slump forward. Shiro was going to suggest his idea anyway, he’s just more convinced looking at how miserable Keith looks.

“Listen, Keith… Why don’t you come to stay at my house until the trial?”

“What?” Keith blinks at him.

“I know it can be hard remaining alone in this kind of situation, and that your home after a search warrant… can feel violated…” Shiro explains. “If you have parents I would suggest going there, but…”

“I see.” Keith clenches his teeth a little. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’m used to being alone.”

No. Shiro isn’t going to give up that easy. “Keith. There is a killer out there and, for all we know, they could come after you to destroy the remaining evidence”

“If he wanted me dead, I'd already be dead..”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to risk it. I lost a client once. I’m not going to have that happen again, especially not to you.” Then, he adds, “I have a guest room, with private bathroom.”

Keith rubs his hand, not looking at Shiro. “…okay,” he whispers, at the end. “Just let me take somethings.”

He takes a duffle and puts in some clothes from the wardrobe, a knife Shiro has seen him use before during a session, and some objects for personal hygiene. He puts the duffle on his right shoulder and looks at Shiro.

Shiro’s apartment is on the East Side of the city, the residential quarter, on the fourth floor. At that time he bought it, he had been thinking about a future with Adam. That had never happened, and the second room had become the guest’s room. It’s still not such a big apartment, but it has a living room with a door that leads to a balcony and the grass Shiro likes taking care of.

He opens the door to the bedroom quarter: there is a small anteroom and three doors. The one on the right is Shiro’s room, the left is the guest’s room. Shiro shows it to Keith and leaves him some privacy. After everything that's happened to him, he probably needs some quiet. He returns to the kitchen and decides there is not much in the fridge for dinner, so Shiro takes out some of his flyers for take-away restaurants. He will let Keith choose.

Shiro hears the sound of running water and guesses Keith’s taking a shower. Shiro decides to copy him. Unlike the bathroom i the guest’s room, Shiro’s bathroom isn’t directly connected to his room, so Shiro dresses in a bathrobe before moving between the rooms. It’s not like Keith has never seen Shiro’s naked, but Shiro doesn’t want to impose.

He leaves the door of his room open, as he hangs his suit after the shower and Keith finds him there. He’s changed into a more comfortable t-shirt and jeans, and the hair tied up in a ponytail.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asks, with a smile.

“Better,” Keith admits. “I almost forgot how good a real shower is.” He dares a step inside the room and looks around. His gaze stops on the two frames on Shiro’s drawer unit, one with Shiro and the lawyer team, and one with Shiro and Pidge’s family. He doesn’t ask.

“I’ll show you something funny,” Shiro says, after putting the suit back in the wardrobe. He pulls out a rectangular box covered in dust. “Here.”

Keith frowns a little, but curiosity gets the best of him. He opens the box still in Shiro’s arms and takes out the contents. An armbinder and a leg binder, both made with leather inside and red latex outside.

“Oh. Those are quality,” Keith comments, as he snags them with the point of his fingers. “But the size looks small.”

“Yeah.” Shiro chuckles and places the box upon the drawer unit. “That’s the point.”

“Will you tell me?” Keith asks as he puts the binders back in the box.

“The first time my therapist suggested I try BDSM, I wasn’t so inclined. But I still went into a sexy shop, for, you know, research purposes,” Shiro said, and already sees the small smile showing on Keith’s face. “Everyone there looked so competent. I had to keep up with them. So when the shopkeeper asked me if I needed anything, I just grabbed the first thing I saw and made a very convincing face while making my purchase.”

“Oh, my God.” Now Keith is laughing. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t buy it.”

“Oh, no, no, he did. I have a pretty good poker face, you know? I’m a lawyer. And by the way, he commented about the fact that my sub has to be very lucky to have such a generous dom. And he winked at me.”

Keith has to sit down on the bed. “That… I can believe,” he pants. “I know a couple of slaves that would be pretty happy to have you ordering them around.”

“Uhm.”

Shiro turns around. It’s stupid, he knows that, but he becomes irrationally jealous when Keith talks about his other clients. Shiro is already more than that: he stopped paying for their sessions, they stopped going at the club. But the thought of Keith as anyone else’s master is still unsettling.

He’s not going to tell him that though. He’s just happy he managed to stop himself before asking Keith to quit working at the club. Keith’s work life is not Shiro’s business. So he changes the subject.

“I should probably return them, they’re new.”

“Do you want to try them on me?” Keith proposes. “They should be my size.”

Shiro looks at him. And blinks. “Is that… something possible? Like, a role reversal?”

“I can order you around even if I’m tied up, I can assure you,” Keith smirks. “And it can be… educational for you, being in my shoes for a while. Also, you can relieve a little bit of stress from my shoulders too.”

_Okay with: bondage (?), kissing (?), touching (?)_

_Soft limits: sex (?)_

_Hard limits: ???_

“I don’t know your limits,” Shiro points out.

“I will stop you, don’t worry.”

A look at the binders and Shiro is convinced. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

Keith nods and takes off his t-shirt. At Shiro’s wide eyes, he explains, “you can’t put that on top of clothes.” And he sits back on the bed, only in his black pants.

“Ah, sure.”

Shiro puts his poker face back on as he takes the leg binder and slides it up Keith’s legs and fastens the three buckles. The binder covers Keith’s knees, the upper part of his calves and the bottom part of his thighs. It makes, if possible, Keith’s legs look even longer.

“Do you ever use these things during sessions?” Shiro asks. He sits down behind him on the mattress.

He remembers Keith using some straps and buckles during their earlier sessions, but not something so elaborate.

“Not really.” Keith places his arms behind his back and Shiro slides the arm binder. “I’m more of an expert with ropes.”

“I noticed,” Shiro jokes.

“But if you’d like…”

“No, no. Ropes are fine.”

Unlike the leg binder, the arm one has only the buckle for the wrists. The rest of the binder, that covers Keith’s arms entirely, needs to be fastened with the laces. Shiro starts to bind them.

_Safeword: ???_

“So, safe word?” he asks.

“Red.”

“Woah, boring. It’s used in Fifty Shades, you know.”

Keith groans. “Fine. Star Trek then.”

“Well, that’s something I wouldn’t ever say in this kind of situation.” Shiro chuckles. “The fact that I’m a beginner is showing, I will never get this thing closed up. Why the hell did I take the one with laces?”

“Because you chose it by mistake, remember?” Keith laughs. Then, he leans a little more against Shiro’s. “But that’s the beauty of it. Taking your time, enjoying the moment. It’s similar to the rope.”

So Shiro does. He binds the laces and at the same time he tries to appreciate the sight of Keith’s arms as they are pulled and pressed together, the regularity of his breath, the curve of his neck and the shadow the scar on the right shoulder. Once he finally reaches the end of the binding, he takes the elastic out of Keith’s black hair and lets it fall down his shoulder. This is the first time Shiro has had the chance to rub his finger through it and he sure as hell is not going to miss his chance. Keith’s hair is soft, like fine silk.

Keith laughs. “You’re spoiling yourself, Champion,” he comments. “You’re in charge for five minutes and you’re already helping yourself.”

“You’re the one in charge, Sir.” Shiro rolls a lock of hair around his index finger. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“But what do you want to do, Champion?”

_Hard limits: ~~kiss~~_

_Hard limits: ~~handjobs~~_

_Hard limits: ~~sex~~_

Shiro lies Keith down on the bed, back facing up. He takes a look at him and at the contrast between the dark red latex and his skin, and how the binders highlight Keith’s muscles.

“Your ass. It’s wonderful,” he says. “Will you let me worship it?”

He sees as Keith freezes a little, before relaxing again. “…permission granted, Champion.”

_Okay with: ass worship, touching, kissing_

“Thank you, Sir.” Shiro slides down the dark pants to reveal the curve of the buttocks.

His fingers caress the skin before Shiro cups both buttocks in his hands. Pressing the fingers to them, he can feel how they are mostly muscles, from a very toned body. He takes his time to massage them before tasting him with his lips, first small kisses, then sucking the skin inside his mouth. Keith moans a little as Shiro’s tongue slides down between his buttocks and near his hole.

Shiro may not be such an expert in BDSM, but he prides himself at being pretty good with asses. Especially when they are as gorgeous as Keith’s.

“Yes, please, Champion…” Keith whispers. “Worship me more.”

Now he’s moving to match Shiro’s tongue’s movements and Shiro smiles internally. Pleasing his master makes him happy too. And, for once, pleasing him with a more active role is exhilarating. His hands are still on Keith’s buttocks as he lick’s his master’s ass.

Keith releases a satisfied sigh and settles better on the bed, once Shiro’s done with his ass. “Not bad, Champion.”

“Just not bad?” Shiro pouts. He lies down next to him.

“I don’t want to spoil you more,” Keith replies. He wiggles a little to move, so now he lies down on his right side, so his back is facing Shiro. “Come on, free me.”

“No.”

“Champion…” Keith warns him.

“I apologize, Sir, but I’m not going to free you until you admit I was great.”

“We can stay here forever then.”

Shiro slides his hands up on Keith’s chest, from behind. Keith’s nipples are small and red as a cherry. And very, very ticklish. “Are you sure?” he teases, as he rubs them with his nails.

“No, no, stop.” Keith wriggles trying to move away, but Shiro’s grip forces him to remain still, his back against Shiro’s chest. “Champion, I swear-”

He doesn’t manage to finish the sentence. Once Shiro’s hand moves on his abdomen he burst out laughing. The sound of his laughter fills the room, high and crystalline. Keith’s chest moves faster and faster as he uselessly twists in order to avoid Shiro’s hands as he mercilessly tickles him.

“So?” Shiro stops the moment he feels Keith is almost choking himself.

“Champion,” Keith spits out, once he regains his breath. “You are the worst slave _ever_. But,” he takes a deep breath. “You were great. I may let you worship me another time. Maybe.”

“I can accept that.” Shiro nods and smiles satisfied. His gaze softens as he moves some hairs off Keith’s red face. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes.” Keith smiles back.

Shiro dares to place a small kiss on Keith’s left shoulder. “You know, my team and I have never lost a trial. You’ll be fine.”

Keith relaxes against his chest. “I know.”


	7. Seventh play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith keeps some secrets, Shiro doesn't
> 
> Warnings: butt plug, shibari

By now, Keith knows the sound of an asleep Shiro. He doesn’t snore, but his breath is regular, deeper, his mouth barely half-open. Keith remains listening to his breathing for five minutes before making up his mind.

He takes the keys Shiro left on the table in the kitchen and leaves the apartment in silence.

It’s around 2 a.m. and outside is dark and empty.

Going on his bike could be too dangerous, since he’s a murder suspect. He doesn’t want to use Shiro’s car either: he isn’t going to risk putting Shiro in a fishy situation. Taxi is out of questions too: no witnesses.

The night bus is the only solution. He presses more his hood on his face so the few passengers won’t recognize him. The stop isn’t near to Keith’s destination, so he’s forced to take the last part of the journey by walking. Lotor’s club is in a central area, one that the police patrol. Keith advances next to the wall of the surrounding building, hoping to not be spotted.

The employees’ door of the club is neither alarmed or recorded. The BSDM equipment can be expensive, but thieves don’t usually steal it. Keith has his keys with him: he enters quickly, opening the door barely enough to slip inside.

The inside is pitch black. The last session ended before midnight.

Keith walks in the dark, using his memory to move around. He leaves the changing room, climbs the stairs to the session rooms and reaches the hallway of the club. From there, he can access the office’s area: There’s Lotor’s office, the meeting room, and the surveillance room.

It’s locked and Keith doesn’t possess the key. Carefully, he forces the keyhole open with a hairpin. With a relieved sigh, he realizes he doesn’t leave any sign. He isn’t supposed to be there, and he doesn’t want to leave any traces either.

The room doesn’t have a window. Keith uses his gloved hand to guide himself: he rubs the fingers on the desk until he meets the keyboard. He turns on the computer and the screen brightens the room and the screens behind Keith, on the opposite side of the wall.

Keith doesn’t sit down in the chair: he puts in the password and moves the mouse to the document folders. The videos are organized by dates and nicknames. There isn’t a folder under the name “Champion”, so Keith searches for dates. His mind recalls the first time he and Shiro had a session.

The light of the room turn on before he has a chance to check. He squints his eyes, blinded for a second, and stumbles away from the computer.

Lotor is in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t look surprised to see Keith there. He barely raises an eyebrow.

Keith’s hand slides to his side, where his knife is. Lotor doesn’t look armed, though, and attacking him won’t do any good. So he stares at Lotor, waiting for his first move.

“Are you sure that a breaking in will do your murder charge any good?” Lotor asks, as he takes a step forwards.

“You framed me.”

It’s a statement, said with conviction, but Lotor doesn’t falter. He just keeps walking towards the computer.

“You killed Narti and stole my gun,” Keith continues.

“If you thought so, then why am I not the one on trial?” Lotor sits down and presses a USB inside the computer. “You can’t be sure, or you would have told the police you think it was me. Either way, it doesn’t matter?”

Keith grits his teeth. Lotor is right: he can’t report him. It’s pointless.

“You tested me and Narti,” he says. “You suspected a traitor, after Bandor’s death. And we were the only suspects, because we were the only ones who knew about him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lotor’s tone indicates he knows exactly what Keith’s talking about. He transfers some files from the computer to the USB. “But I know one thing for certain: you wouldn’t be on trial if you wouldn’t have been at the port. So you should blame yourself for it.”

Keith snorts. Before he can retort back, Lotor takes out the USB and smiles. “The question is: how much you’re willing to do to save the reputation of your lawyer friend?” He turns the chair to face Keith, the USB between his fingers.

“He didn’t do anything bad.” Keith’s eyes are on the USB.

“Oh, I agree.” Lotor shrugs. “I wouldn’t own a BDSM club otherwise. But we both know very well what the rest of the world thinks about our practices. And I may not be a psychologist, but still I don’t think Mister Shirogane’s PTSD will get better after the videos of him naked and tied up are leaked to the press.”

Keith grabs the USB from Lotor’s fingers: he throws it on the ground and stomps on it to destroy it.

Lotor watches the scene, blinking. “You know I have backups?”

“I know,” Keith confirms, “but it made me feeling better.”

“Oh, well.”

“That’s what you do?” Keith asks. “The politicians, the lawyers, the bankers… People it’s nice having on your side. They do you favors, and all you do is assure them that you won’t spread their videos.”

“A gentlemen’s agreement.”

“Nice phrasing for blackmail,” Keith retorts. “Recording sessions without their consent is illegal, no matter what you say about it being for safety reasons.”

“Are you going to report me?” Lotor asks, with a soft smile. It turns into a smirk with Keith’s silence. “As I guessed. But I _am_ a gentleman, so I have a good offer for you.”

“Which is?” Keith curses under his breath: he doesn’t like the idea of Lotor winning this match.

“Another person to frame for Narti’s murder,” Lotor says. “Sendak.”

Keith frowns. “Sendak is from the Galra gang. He works directly under Zarkon’s command.”

“He does. He’s the head of the drugs department of the gang. And, like every member of that gang, they have never been charged for their crimes.”

“Narti worked for them too?”

Lotor doesn’t answer. “Narti was there for the drugs. Sendak is a pusher. If you accuse them, I can assure you there will be proof of Narti’s murder in their house.”

“You want me to lie.”

“Sendak is guilty. Maybe not specifically of Narti’s murder, but he deserves a trial. It’s time to stop him. And if in the meantime you can walk free and save your friend’s reputation, all the better, right?” Lotor smiles. “It’s a good offer, you should take it.”

Since Keith doesn’t speak further, Lotor stands up. “I will have Acxa testify at your trial. She will speak in your favor, and against Narti. Do not disappoint me again. Now leave, before I have to call the police for real.”

He leaves the room and Keith takes a couple of minutes to breathe and recollect himself. He returns to Shiro’s apartment following the same path he came from. Shiro was still sleeping and Keith let out a relieved sigh. He puts his pajamas on and slips back into his bed.

Accepting Shiro’s offer was a mistake, even if he can have his own room. Still, the thought of Shiro sleeping in the next room is relaxing. Makes Keith more focused.

He closes his eyes, fully expecting to not be able to sleep. Instead, when he wakes up, the sun is already up and Shiro is nowhere to be seen. The door of his room is open and the bed is tidy. There is an old cellphone on the kitchen’s table, alongside with a covered plate and a note from Shiro.

_Hi Keith! Good morning! I hope you slept well. I went to the office, Allura and I are preparing for the Voir Dire, you can take the free morning. I’ll call you later, be my guest in the meantime. I left something for you to eat for breakfast. The police still have your cell phone so I bought an old one for urgent calls. See you later. Shiro xxx_

Keith can’t help but smile at the note. He checks the cellphone: it _is_ an old one, and Keith doesn’t feel safe to use it for any form of communication. Besides, Shiro forgot to register his number so Keith can’t call him.

He dedicates the morning to check for information about Sendak. Of course, Sendak is well known around, being a businessman; his ties with the gang have never been proved. He financed Zarkon’s campaign to become governor. He’s a notoriously private person, with a passion for hunting.

At the end of his investigation, Keith has a clear thought that Lotor is not the only one that can blackmail people. Sendak is too well protected and Keith doubts that his testimony will do any good. Especially since it’s fake.

He still wonders if Lotor is testing him in some way, when the cell phone rings.

“Keith!” Shiro’s tone is light, happy. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. You should have woken me.”

“Nah, you need to rest. But be prepared for this afternoon, because I won’t go easy on you.”

“The questioning?”

“Yep. But after lunch. I’m coming home, and I hope you like Thai food.”

Keith smiles softly. It’s hard not to, with Shiro. “That sounds good.”

“Oh, look, I’m driving just by the sexy shop I told you about yesterday.”

“Why don’t you stop by?”

“What?”

“Stop by. Buy something you want. Whatever you’d like to try.” Shiro needs a good master. A better one than Keith. But until then, Keith will try to be the best for him.

“Well, I… okay, why not?” The embarrassment of Shiro’s tone is adorable.

He comes twenty minutes later, Thai food in one hand and a bag from the sexy shop in the other. Keith welcomes him home with a smile and helps him arrange the table. As they eat, Shiro updates Keith about the case: there isn't much news, Pidge and Lance are still investigating on it.

The sexy shop bag lies on the sofa, but Keith doesn’t miss the looks that Shiro throws it from time to time. So he frees him from his misery: just after lunch, he sits down and checks what is inside. Red silk ropes, a butt plug, a crop, lube and condoms, a couple of vibratos, a ball gag and a blindfold.

“You bought… a lot,” Keith comments.

“Sorry.”

“Was it the same shop assistant at the other time?”

“Yes! And he remembered me!”

Keith isn’t surprised in the slightest. Shiro isn’t someone one forgets easily.

“He asked me if I changed sub. You know, because of the ropes.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s testing the waters because he wants to be your sub, too.”

“That's because he hasn’t met you, yet.” There is a small smile on Shiro’s face, and his cheeks go slightly red as his gaze moves over all the objects Keith placed on the sofa. “We should go to the office now,” he hurries to says. “Allura really wants to start questioning you.”

Keith stops him before he can put back the things in the bag. “Takes off your shirt.”

“What?” Shiro’s red increases. “No, no, we don’t have the time now…”

“Give me ten minutes.”

Shiro looks around, as if he expects someone to stop him, then nods slightly. While he takes off the shirt, Keith tests the ropes and opens the packaging of the butt plug. Shiro stands in front of him, bare chest. Ten minutes are more than enough to roll the rope around Shiro’s torso and shoulders, forming a geometrical design on his chest.

When Keith opens his pants, Shiro tenses a little and swallows, but he doesn’t move. He releases a small moan as Keith slides the butt plug inside, and again when he places the rope between Shiro’s buttocks to keep the butt plug in place. The rope passes between Shiro’s leg and is tied to the one on his chest.

“Now we can go to the office,” Keith states.

“With… Like…” Shiro’s breath is short.

Keith offers him the shirt. “No one will notice.”

“I can’t drive with… something up my ass.”

“I’ll drive, then.”

Shiro seems to reflect on the situation. He takes it as a challenge. He grabs his shirt and wears it, he pulls on his pants and puts on his bratty expression. “No, I drive,” he declares.

And he does, making Keith chuckle every time the car moves a little too much under Shiro’s seat and he has to bite his lips to not moan. Keith doesn’t miss the sigh of relief once he parks the car in the parking lot of the office.

“If you think that this will make me go easy on you, you’re wrong,” Shiro hisses on the lift, as he wiggles a little to make himself more comfortable.

And damn, the questioning is harsh.

Keith is forced to tell what happened the night of the murder again and again, with both Shiro and Allura. They interrupt him more than once to ask him to clarify, or explain more. They want Keith to be as precise as possible: where he was, how many steps he took, how much distance from one thing to another… From Keith’s side, it is unnerving, but apparently for them this is normal, because Allura doesn’t show any sign of thinking there is something wrong with Shiro.

At a certain point, Hunk comes into the room and they all are so focused on the questioning that they barely notice. He sits down next to Keith. His presence is reassuring, like he’s on Keith’s side.

He’s constantly imagining Shiro with the butt plug inside him and the ropes around his waist, otherwise, his presence would have felt intimidating or even more imposing.

“Why were you at the port?”

“I was following a lead-”

“A lead no one can see. Very convenient for you!”

“It’s not like-”

“So you can show us the note? You can let us speak with the person that told you to go there?”

“No.”

“Then why should we believe you, Mister Kogane? Why should the jury believe you instead of the evidence that shows you were there with the victim? With her dead body!”

Keith presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t have an answer for that. He’s telling the truth, but he has no proof about that. He can’t tell how he got his information. Why Lotor thinks people would believe his statement about Sendak is still a mystery for Keith.

Hunk coughs a little. “I think is enough. We haven’t decided yet if Keith will testify, right?”

“No,” Allura confirms. “We got a little carried away by the questioning. We have very little to hang on.”

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” he assures him. “Can you continue?”

“I call for a break!” And Keith is almost happy to see Lance entering in the room.

“Oh, Lance,” Hunk greets him, “where have you been?”

Lance falls on a chair. “Investigating,” he replies. “I’ve spoken with a countless number of policewomen and also with Sam from the CSI Unit, and I now have a clearer idea of the charges being laid against Keith.”

“So?” Allura asks.

“They don’t have much, I mean, besides Keith being near the body with the murder weapon thing,” Lance explains. “Their theory of choice is that Keith and the victim went together to the port to steal something, they had a disagreement in which the victim ended up dead.”

“What were we supposed to be stealing?” Keith frowns.

“Electronic components,” Lance replies. “The container Narti broke open? It contained hardware components. Apparently, they sell well at the black market.” He scoffs. “I am going next to the port to inspect the container and the surrounding area.”

Allura nods approvingly. “It’s strange. It doesn’t feel like a very solid case for their part. Very circumstantial.” She draws something similar to a star on the paper in front of her. “They don’t have proof that Keith and Narti are connected more than being colleagues, and the rain washed away a lot of evidence. Why are they rushing so much?”

“Because the police are stupid and they don’t like to think too much?” Lance proposes.

“Maybe,” Allura murmurs.

“I may have the answer.” Pidge enters the room, her laptop on her arms. “I’ve been continuing my research into Narti’s life… She’s more like a ghost, you know.”

“She was a very private person,” Keith confirms.

“Yeah, but she seems more manic that just that,” Pidge comments. “No matter, I was able to find her entering the town library. You know, you have to have documentation to access the system there.”

“And this is useful for us because….?” Lance inquires, annoyed.

She glares at him. “Because, every single time the victim has ever entered the library, another person was there. Every single time. Statistically, it can't be a coincidence. It doesn’t happen with anyone else.” She makes a dramatic pause. “I’m like, 99% sure our victim met the Witch there.”

All the people in the room release a small gasp, except Keith who frowned. “The Witch?”

“You don’t know who the Witch is?” Lance sounds horrified. “What kind of bounty hunter are you?”

“I know of the Witch,” Keith snarls back at him. “But it is a nickname; because no one knows her identity, or she would have been arrested years ago.”

After all, the police have laid a long list of crimes at the Witch’s feet. Some of them so horrendous that Keith can’t believe them to be true. The Witch has become almost a mythological figure: when the police can’t find the culprit, they say it’s the Witch. But as a person, the Witch existed, and without any doubt she’s basically the right-hand to the head of the Galra gang.

“We know,” Allura says. “The problem is that we don't have any physical proof, but there isn’t any doubt in our minds that Doctor Honerva is the real identity of the Witch.”

“And how is that possible?” Keith inquires. “From what I know, the investigations into the Galra gang are a prerogative of the FBI, and they are clueless.”

Everyone in the room glanced to look at Shiro. “We crossed paths with her in one of our previous cases,” Allura answers, in a tone that indicated that she won’t say anymore.

Lance pats his legs, excited. “It’s time for payback. If the Witch is behind Narti’s murder, we can finally catch her!”

“It won’t be so easy,” Pidge replies. “All we have up until now is just their presence together at the library, and nothing more.”

“And are you sure it’s a good idea to follow this lead?” Hunk asks quietly. “After what happened last time…”

Keith crosses his arms and waits for them to explain how this law office can have more information than the FBI. Instead, they look at each other, as if they are waiting for the next person to come up with a solution. Everyone, even Lance seems more unsure than before. Keith’s gaze moves to Shiro, who has his head lowered and both his hands placed on the table.

“Kerberos!” he exclaims after a moment, and he startles everyone else.

“What…?” Pidge raises an eyebrow.

“That is a very peculiar swear,” Lance comments.

“It isn’t…” Shiro starts. “Whatever. I need to go to the bathroom.”

The others have surprise on their faces, but no one makes a move to follow Shiro, as if they understand what’s going on. They obviously can’t, at least not about the implication of Shiro’s words. Keith stands up and follows in Shiro’s direction, ignoring Lance’s call for him to come back.

The bathroom of the office is a short hallway with three doors in a row. “Shiro?” Keith calls.

“I’m here.”

The voice comes from the third door, the one next to the wall. Keith testes the door and it opens. Shiro is inside, with his shirt off and pants down, arms behind his back as he struggles to untie the knots. He’s sweating and his breath is a little off.

“I can’t believe I can’t get free, even though I can move my arms,” he comments, with a sheepish smile.

“That’s the point,” Keith replies. He closes the door behind him.

In the small space of the toilet, moving isn’t easy. Shiro manages to turn his back to him, his legs open across the toilet bowl and both hands place on the wall to maintain the balance.

First thing, Keith unties the knot near his ass, so he can pull loose enough cord to take out the butt plug. Shiro answers with a long low sigh. Keith regrets not having brought his knife with him for this kind of situation. He still works fast to untie all the knots and to take the rope off Shiro’s body. He hangs it at the door hook while Shiro slumps down over the water bowl.

“You okay?” Keith asks.

Shiro nods. His breath is still a little bit accelerated.

The rope left clear marks on Shiro’s skin, and they both can see where the rope was and how it was tied around Shiro’s torso. It will be difficult to massage them without touching any of the scars, but that doesn't stop Keith from trying.

“Were you having another attack?” he asks gently, as he starts to press the palm of his hand against Shiro’s shoulder.

“Not quite,” Shiro answers.

“What happened with the Witch?” Keith isn’t usually a curious person, but now he needs to know.

Shiro seems to think the same thing, because he starts talking after a long breath. “We had a client. Luka. She was accused of killing her husband... The point is, that man was never her husband, he was more like her slave owner. She came here illegally, so she couldn’t say anything to the police without being deported.”

“She paid a guide to bring her across the border, and then the same guide sold her?”

“Yes. And she wasn’t the only one. Thanks to Luka, we were able to track down the people that had arrived with her, in hopes of discovering and stopping this human trafficking ring.”

“I remember it,” Keith realizes. “It was a big scoop for the FBI. A couple of big names were involved in it… Oh.” He stops: a particular name comes in his mind. “Sorry. Go on.”

Shiro throws him a look, before continuing, “Luka was killed.” The words were heavy in Shiro’s mouth, dripping of regret. “The FBI immediately puts the other refugees in the witness protection program. All they needed was their testimony, and they could have arrested and sentenced the Witch.”

“She was behind all that, right?”

“It was because of Luka’s testimony that we originally tracked Doctor Honerva. But without Luka, we didn't have any evidence. We didn’t even tell the FBI what we knew, because it would have been pointless and added surveillance would have only put Honerva on edge.”

“Is this when your kidnapping came into place?” Keith asks.

Shiro releases a small, not-amused laugh. “I guess the newspaper covered that news.”

“Not really,” Keith replies. “They had talked about the kidnapping of the ‘ _Champion of the Court’_ and that it was tied to a big case, but I gather that was only after you were already rescued.”

“Well, the FBI tried to keep it as quiet as possible, but they took days before realizing anything had happened.”

“I should have realized it was you,” Keith comments. “But I wanted to hear the story from you.”

“There’s not all that much to say, I don’t remember most of it. They said that can happen with PTSD, who could have imagined that?” Shiro scoffs. “They wanted to know where the other refugees were, and I was the easier victim for them to grab. And I _did_ know where they were. They tortured me, tried to force me to tell them what I knew.”

The words came out slow and heavy, but Shiro seems relieved to say them. Keith’s hands were still on his skin, erasing the rope marks with his massage. He brushes a scar a little.

“You were tied up to a chair. What did they do to you?”

“They cut me, mostly, with a knife.” He lifts his prosthetic hand. “One time, they cut a little too deep.”

“That’s horrible.” Keith swallows hard.

“I was lucky, they found me before I could bleed to death, so yeah.” Shiro scoffs again.

Keith bends down and hugs Shiro from his side. His arms wrap tightly around Shiro’s chest, his forehead gently resting against Shiro’s right shoulder. “You are so brave, Shiro. Truly.”

“I’m just a broken man.”

“No, no you’re not.”

Shiro’s breath slows down. “…thanks.” He stumbles a little as he stands up. “Will you put the ropes back on me, please?”

Keith blinks. “Are you sure that's a good idea? I don’t want-”

“Please,” Shiro repeats. “If we have to face the Witch, I want to be ready.”

In Shiro’s eyes, there is the same fire Keith saw back during the trial. This is the man that survived torture without revealing anything to his captors. Keith may be the master, but he can’t tell him no.


	8. Eighth play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro faces the court and his personal demons.
> 
> Warnings: chair bondage, vibrator, orgasm delay, forced orgasm, blindfold, tickling, food worshipping

The opening speech is one of Shiro’s favorite moments.

The first steps in court, the first moment to lure the jury to his side. And he’s pretty good at doing it, with his warm smile and his well-spoken rhetoric. All eyes are on him as he walks slowly in front of them, stopping looking at each one of them.

“The prosecutor has told you about a murder,” he says. “He told you about a victim, the alleged assailant, and showed you some evidence. I won’t tell you anything just yet, I just want to warn you: do not fall for it. The prosecutor may create a story, even a plausible one. But it is not the truth, just what they want to believe is the truth. What they decided it’s true, based on convenience.

So, please, pay attention to the evidence: they don't have anything conclusive, and everything is circumstantial or they haven’t been able to read them correctly. Yes, the defendant was found next to the victim. Was he the only one? The correct answer is no. Did the police care? We’ll see. You’ll see.”

When he returns to his bench, Allura nods lightly in his direction. Shiro doesn’t miss the look Iverson shoots him: he understands that the defense’s strategy will be putting the police investigations under a bad light, and he’s not going to like it. Shiro faced him in court countless times and he respects him as a prosecutor, just doesn't like his methods.

Iverson’s first witness is the policeman that arrested Keith. He doesn’t have much to add about what Shiro already knows about the night of the murder, and his version matches Keith’s. Iverson doesn’t question him much either, because the policeman’s role is only to confirm Keith’s presence next to the body.

When it’s Shiro’s turn, he gives the policeman a warm smile. He isn’t going to destroy his testimony, so he tries to put him at ease.

“Can you repeat for me the position of where you found the defendant?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“What I meant was Mister Kogane standing up when you found him? Or was he on the ground?”

The policeman frowns a little, thinking. “No,” he confirms at the end. “He wasn’t standing.”

“Don’t you think that was strange? If he was the aggressor, shouldn't he have been standing up.”

“To be fair, I didn’t think much of any of it. We were called about a breakin. We saw an unidentified person at the port, where he shouldn’t have had access, so we immediately seized him. Then we saw a body and he had a gun, so we couldn’t take any risks.”

“Of course. I understand.” Shiro nods a little with his head. “Do you have any ideas now?”

“For why the defendant was not standing up? No. It’s not my place to speculate.”

Shiro takes a step around and looks at him closely: he wonders if Iverson has instructed him to not give any opinions. Perhaps because he has one that does not coincide with the prosecution’s line of attack. “Did the defendant have the gun in his hand when you arrived?”

“Yes.”

“Think carefully, are you sure?” Shiro presses. “Was the gun perhaps already on the ground?”

The policeman reflects a little. “Maybe? I’m not sure. When we arrived, we immediately demanded them to put their hands in the air. I can’t recall if he had already put the gun down before then. It was next to him when we cuffed and arrested him.”

That information isn’t strictly poignant at the moment, but Shiro needs to build the fundament for his defense thesis. Still, he doesn’t want to risk annoying the jury, so he lets it go for the moment.

“You received an anonymous alert, correct?” Shiro asks then. “To a break-in at the port.”

“Yes.”

“And you believed the information told to you?”

“We have no choice. Anonymous alerts happen all the time.” The policeman snorts. “Most are useless but it’s still our duty to check them out. Even if some turn out to be fake. But citizens have the right to remain anonymous, for whatever reasons.”

“We did some research.” Shiro returns to the bench and takes a piece of paper from his folder. “It’s a statistical analysis of the makers of anonymous tip calls. Did you know that, in the 20% of cases started by anonymous tips, the caller is also the real perpetrator?”

“I did not know that.”

“Objection,” Iverson intrudes. “I don’t understand the reasons for this question.”

Judge Montgomery looks eloquently at Shiro. “Help us understand, Mister Shirogane.”

“My question is: did the police do their due diligence to research the call? Can you confirm that it came from an honest citizen and not the real criminal attempting to frame Mister Kogane?”

“I don’t know,” the policeman replies. “I was just the arresting officer on the scene, but that sort of work is not my job. It’s up to the detectives’ to investigate.”

“And did they check?”

“You should ask them.”

“Oh, I will,” Shiro states, and in saying so he turns a look at the jury. Now, they will want to know more about that call and any research.

“Why?” Keith whispers, once Shiro sits down next to him. “Now Iverson will definitely ask his witnesses about it.”

“That’s what we want,” Shiro replies. “We need the jury to listen to it.”

“Unfortunately, Pidge’s methods aren’t always fully legal,” Allura adds. “Only the police have the physical evidence, and they are the only ones that can submit it to the courts for the trial. Of course, we could ask the judge to see the evidence, but we prefer to lead the prosecution, let Iverson think that what it was his idea.”

“Got it.”

Keith is practical, and he doesn’t question their strategy once he understands it. Shiro appreciates that. He grips his shoulder a little tighter as the next witness takes the stand.

Shiro is glad that Sam Holt is the pathologist on this case. They were old friends, even before Shiro started working with his daughter Pidge, and Shiro trusts both his expertise and his honesty. Sam has to be unbiased, of course, but he knows enough about Shiro’s methods to realize that Keith must be innocent. He can’t lie, of course, but he can answer following Shiro’s lead.

He answers Iverson’s questions about the murder: yes, the gun found with Keith’s fingerprints on it was the murder weapon. Narti was killed with a single gunshot wound to the back. The bullet never left her body.

“Good morning, Doctor Holt,” Shiro greets him with a big smile. “I hope I won't steal very much of your time.”

“You can ask me whatever you’d like,” Sam answers, in a tone that indicates that he already knows what will be asked of him. After all, Lance talked with him before the trial.

“I’m looking at all the evidence the prosecutor has submitted to this court,” Shiro said, flipping through the papers. “The fingerprints were found only on the grip of the gun, is that correct? And only one set of his prints?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a little bit strange, isn’t it? I mean, I understand it’s the most common way to grab a gun, but there shouldn’t there be fingerprints on other parts too? Perhaps on the barrel from cleaning it, or even on the magazine from loading it? But what we have is a perfect set of fingerprints on the grip… almost like someone else placed the gun in the defendant’s hand.”

“Objection!” Iverson jumps on. “The defense is leading the witness.”

“I can answer,” Sam tells the judge, who nods for him to continue. “It isn’t that unusual, and it’s not proof that the gun was placed on the defendant’s hand. Guns need a lot of maintenance, and they are cleaned often. It’s entirely possible the defendant cleaned the weapon and wiped it down and then put it away by the handle. There is also the problem of the rain, it could have washed away any other superficial fingerprints.”

“I see,” Shiro nods. “And what about the bullets? Surely there should have been fingerprints left on the remaining ones. The gun has to be hand loaded. Is it a normal practice to clean the bullets too? Or did the defendant remember to put the bullets in with gloves, and forgot to use the same care on the outside of the gun?”

Sam spread his arms wide with a grin and a shrug. “That is strange, I have to admit. I don’t have an answer for you on this matter.”

Good: Shiro has managed to put another small doubt in the juries mind, while still thinking Sam to be impartial, and not on Shiro’s side. Which is very good, moving onto the next set of questions he has.

“Earlier, you said the rain erased most of the evidence,” Shiro says.

“Unfortunately.” Sam nods. “We still took some samples, but to be honest, we got very few results.”

“So, if a third person was there…”

“I have no evidence of a third person being there,” Sam comments, even if he doesn’t look happy.

“But you said you have very little evidence. It is possible that this third presence was erased by the rain?”

“It may be possible, yes.” Sam follows Shiro’s lead. “But it will be just a hypothesis.”

“A possible hypothesis.”

“A possible one.”

The jury looks a little annoyed, so Shiro decides to move to the next step. He takes the controller and turns on the screen that is able to be used in the room. A photo of Keith just after his arrest appears on the screen.

“I would like the jury to take a good look at this picture. Here, you can definitely see the bruise on the defendant’s right temple,” Shiro said, pointing it out. “Doctor Holt, do you think this wound is compatible with the murder weapon’s handle?”

“Objection! This has nothing to do with the witness’ job!”

“He’s a doctor,” Shiro replies, looking at the judge. “I think he has the expertise to answer my question, and he’s a witness of the prosecution, so he hasn’t been prepared for this beforehand.”

The judge narrows her eyes. She knows Sam’s friendship with Shiro. “I’ll allow the questions. _For now_.”

“Thank you.”

“From a photo, it’s pretty hard to say, if it’s exactly a match to the murder weapon.” Sam answers. “But, given my experience, I can say a bruise like that could definitely result from being hit with the handle of a gun. I can’t confirm the kind of gun, of course, and there are other ways to have similar wounds that don’t involve a gun.”

“Like a punch, or a fight?”

Sam shakes his head. “No. Not in that location, and such an oddly shaped form. It was definitely an object with a rectangular form.”

“Thank you, Doctor Holt.”

Another small step for giving the jury reason to doubt. It’s a little frustrating at the moment because they are only small steps, even if they are in the right direction. Patience yields focus, he reminds himself.

Still, he frowns when he realizes he doesn’t have questions for the next witness. Miss Acxa is Keith’s colleague at the Sincline Club and she was also Narti’s roommate. The point of confusion is that she doesn’t know anything about Narti. Despite being roommates, they aren’t even friends. She knows about Narti’s methods of work at the club and very little else.. Acxa was working the night of the murder, so she can’t even confirm how and when Narti left the apartment for the port.

Yes, Narti lost her job recently, so probably, she needed the money, since the club is secondary work for most of them, and that’s all. Does Narti know the defendant? Well, they worked together, but that’s all Acxa can say. Did they speak? Maybe. Acxa can’t confirm either way. It _was_ possible, sure, but certain… no. Iverson looks frustrated too: he doesn’t even try to paint the BDSM in a bad light.

“No questions, your honor,” Shiro says when it comes to his turn. “I don’t understand why Iverson called for her,” he whispers to Allura. “She doesn’t have anything interesting to share.”

“He needed someone to confirm to the jury that Keith and the victim knew each other, that’s all,” Allura comments.

“Narti was a very reserved person,” Keith adds. “I doubt anyone else from the club knew anything about her. Acxa was probably the best shot they had.”

Shiro places a hand on his shoulder: Keith’s tensed, even if he tried to hide it, and Shiro can’t blame him. He can only try his best to reassure him.

Iverson keeps his best witness at last: Officer Griffin, the lead detective on the case. Unfortunately for Iverson, he’s also the witness Shiro has been waiting for. Griffin isn’t a bad cop per se, but he’s pretty basic in some of his deductions. A thing that looks like a sheep, has to be a sheep for him. For Shiro, most of the time it turns out to be anything but a sheep.

Griffin answers Iverson’s questions with precision. The jury likes him, Shiro doesn’t need Allura to confirm it. After all, Griffin is definitely the epitome of ‘the good guy’. And he likes being a cop, so he’s passionate about his job. He looks like a person that just _knows things and you can trust_.

Just like Shiro wanted, Iverson submits to the court for evidence, the record of the anonymous tip call.

_911, what’s your emergency?_

_I’m at the port and… I just saw two people inside… They’re fighting._

_Okay. Can you tell me your name and position?_

_I’m just outside, on the west side of the port. Where the containers are._

_Okay, stay where you are and do not intervene. Are they armed?_

_I think so?_

_Do they see you?_

_Not for now._

_I’m sending a patrol. Can you tell me your name again?_

_Tu-tu-tu_

Griffin admits they tried to trace back the anonymous call, but to no avail. It was a prepaid number and the call didn’t last enough to track it. Still, it’s not the first time something like that happened: people don’t like to be involved in crimes, and murder even less. The caller probably left before the patrol’s arrival, and there is nothing they can do at this point. And he was telling the truth, since the defendant and the victim were found in the port, near the containers.

Iverson himself shows examples of anonymous calls that have helped catch other criminals.

The police hypothesize that Keith and Narti were at the port to steal the electronic components from one of the containers. Narti needed the money, and so does Keith. But then they had a disagreement, maybe Narti changed his mind, so Keith killed her. After all, nothing was identified as stolen from the container in the end. The investigation didn’t reveal anything else to contradict the hypothesis, and Keith’s behavior was downright suspicious during the questioning.

“Might I show something to the jury and the witness, your honor?” Shiro asks when it becomes his turn.

“What is it?”

“It’s the security video from the port, to get a clearer understanding of the situation with the anonymous call.”

“Please proceed.”

“Officer Griffin,” Shiro calls, as he prepares the screen. “You said the caller was outside the port, right? on the street that drives alongside the gate.”

“That’s our hypothesis, yes.”

“We had our investigator check it.” Shiro plays the video. “Have you noticed it?”

“No.” Griffin presses his lips together.

“I’ll show you,” Shiro says, with a smile, and put up a series of photos for everyone to see. “Those are the photos of the tip callers location. Did you see this spot in the video? No. You don’t.” He turns his attention back to Griffin. “There is no possible way for your anonymous caller to see from the described location because there is an entire row of containers that obscures the view. There is only a way for the caller to have known the defendant and the victim were there: he was there with them!”

Griffin takes a deep breath, then smiles. “There is another possible explanation.”

“Which is?” Shiro has to admit he wasn’t expecting that.

“Can you play the video again?” Griffin asks. Shiro nods.

“Stop here, please,” Griffin says once they reach almost the end of the video. “Can you see there? There is a breach in the railing. This is the place the defendant and the victim used to sneak inside. The caller could have seen them from here.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Shiro states. It comes naturally to him, it wasn’t planned, but it works. The jury is looking at him with interest.

“Why not?” Griffin asks.

“We all heard the call at the 911. The anonymous caller didn’t speak about two people sneaking inside. He talked about a _fight_. He was very specific.”

“Well, he was on the street on the other side, it is possible-”

“Oh, no, no, no. Words have a meaning, Officer Griffin,” Shiro interrupts him. He has the upper hand and he needs to exploit it. “Unless you want to believe that my client and the victim first fight, then make-up, then break into the port and open the container, then fight again. And all in fifteen minutes, the amount of time that it takes the patrol to get there after the call!”

“Objection! The attorney is testifying. _Again_.”

“I will rephrase,” Shiro says before the judge can accept the objection. “Officer Griffin, do you find my scenario believable? Do you think that the defendant was able to do all of what I said in fifteen minutes?”

“…yes. It’s possible... That’s probably what happened.” He isn’t convinced, and it shows.

“Did you test that scenario?” Shiro asks. “Did you send policemen to recreate and confirm the timing to prove it is possible?”

“No,” Griffin answers behind his teeth.

Shiro smirks. “I thought that much.”

He moves to his bench, as he’s done with his questioning.

“I… I still think it’s possible,” Griffin complains to Shiro’s back.

Shiro turns to face him again. “Do you have a grudge against the defendant, Officer Griffin?”

“What? No! Why should I have-”

“You and the defendant attended the same police school, correct?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And he punched you, back then.”

This wasn’t a question, and Griffin doesn’t take it as one. He turns his head a little to Iverson, silently asking him how to proceed.

Iverson stands up. “I don’t see how this is relevant?”

“It is relevant because, if I was suspect of murder, I would want to be a hundred percent sure that the investigation was totally objective.”

The jury is attentive, and so is the judge. “You may proceed, Mister Shirogane.”

“Thank you.” Shiro nods. “Is it true you told my client that you would incriminate him ‘before noon’? That seems like very little time to investigate, especially for a murder case.”

“The defendant wasn’t cooperating, we were trying to scare him-”

“And you actually managed to incriminate him within the same day, right?”

“Yes. But that was because-”

“No further questions, your honor.”

Shiro sits down satisfied, but the look on Allura’s face isn’t reassuring at all.

His worst fears become true once they get back to the office and see Pidge’s report about the jury’s activities: they’re still on the prosecutor’s side.

“How is this possible?” Lance says Shiro’s thoughts out loud. “The prosecutor has nothing! Griffin made a very superficial investigation! No one knows Narti! Why does the jury still believe the prosecutor?”

“They’re supposed to be people who do not trust the police…” Hunk adds.

“They don’t.” Allura sighs. “This jury is very logical though. Yes, the police made a very superficial investigation, and Narti is a mystery, but the truth is that there isn’t an alternative. There isn’t any physical evidence of a third person, only a possibility. The only thing they know for sure is that Keith was there, and with the murder weapon.”

Hunk looks around. “You're saying that not even Keith’s testimony would be useful in this situation?”

Unwilling, Allura nods. “Unfortunately. I still think we need to try, but it might not be enough.”

“There has got to be something we can do?” Lance pleads.

While the others look at each other, uncertain, Shiro’s eyes are on Keith. He doesn’t talk, he just listens with his arms crossed and gaze looking down at the ground. Shiro wishes he had better words to reassure him better.

Coran arrives with more bad news. “The prosecution just informed us that they’re calling a new witness.” He pouts. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my fault.”

“Who’s the witness?” Shiro asks, afraid.

“Miss Zethird.” Coran looks at the folder. “She’s another colleague of the victim.”

Everyone eyes’ move to Keith, who shrugs. He still isn’t looking at any of them. “I know her just as much as I knew Narti. I have no idea what she could possibly say more than Acxa.”

“But she saw me at the club,” Shiro comments. “I really hope Iverson isn’t going to try putting me down…”

Allura breathes hard. “Pidge. Please, work your miracles and see if you can find something about this Zethird.”

“Sure.”

“We need to review the whole case,” Allura continues. “We need to find a way to break the jury…”

“I may have an idea.” It’s Keith: still not looking at them, and his face is tense.

“Which is?” Shiro encourages him.

“We didn’t even discuss the drugs Narti took from the container,” Keith begins.

“Because we have even less evidence that the drug existed in the first place,” Lance points out.

“So I, might have done some research of my own,” Keith continues. “And I may have a lead of the person that attacked me.”

“You do?” Now he fully has the attention of everyone in the room. “Why haven’t you told us before?” Lance complains.

“Because I’m not sure.” Keith doesn’t look bothered by Lance’s remark, more unsure about his own words. “I still don’t remember who he was, but I have those glimpses… They didn’t make sense at first, until I saw an image of Sendak. Then the idea of seeing a red light in front of me and a glimpse of dark metal wasn’t so far-fetched anymore.”

“Oh, God,” Hunk comments. “First the Witch, now Sendak. This case is becoming a mess.”

“If everything is connected to the Galra, I’m not surprised it’s a mess,” Allura comments.

Shiro lets the other discuss, as he reflects. Sure, Sendak’s fake eye and his prosthetic hand are peculiar, and if Keith remembers seeing something similar to those, it may be enough to slip the doubt into the jury. Still…

“Well, that’s it,” Lance says. “Let’s have Keith testify about it. We have our culprit.”

Keith is about to speak again, but Allura precedes him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Hunk asks.

“Until now, we’ve based our strategy to a mysterious third person, implying we don’t know exactly who this person is,” she explains. “Putting Keith on the stand and suddenly claiming we have a suspect would sound a little too convenient. The jury may not believe it at all, and it could backfire.”

“Then what can we do?” Pidge is annoyed. “I can look around to see if I can pin Sendak around the crime scene at the time of the murder but, you know… there is a reason why everyone thinks he’s behind the Galra’s drugs market, and why he has never been charged for it.”

“What if we don’t mention it in court,” Keith proposes. “What if we told the detective in charge of the investigations around the Galra gang.”

“Prosecutor Sanda,” Shiro says. He knows her since his kidnapping, even if he wasn’t useful at all for helping her catching some members of the gang.

Keith nods. “My gun is still missing, and so are the drugs. If Sendak has them… And if we can convince Sanda to search thanks to my testimony…”

“Too risky,” Allura states.

“No, he’s right,” Shiro replies. “If Sendak is behind Narti’s murder, he has the drugs with him. And the gun, probably, too.”

“How can you be so sure?” Pidge raises an eyebrow.

“There is something that’s been bothering me since the beginning,” Shiro explains. “The drugs. No one takes so many risks for such a small amount of product. _Unless_ … it’s a kind of a special drug, a prototype maybe, or something made only in small amounts for a specific client. And there was obviously a fight over the drugs, just it wasn’t Keith fighting.”

“I agree with you about that,” Allura says.

“The point is, why let Keith live?” Shiro continues. “He knows about the drugs. Killing him would make that a non-issue, and since no one knows why Narti and Keith were there that night, problem solved. Sendak let him live because he wants to make a statement. He wants people to know what happened that night. People more informed than us, of course. The owner of the drug, perhaps. Keith is just a scapegoat for the public opinion, and Sendak is using him to send a message off the books.”

“A civil war,” Allura understands. “You think the drug is owned by the Witch, since Narti probably worked with her. And Sendak is trying to steal her work or her role in the organization. In that case…” She closes her eyes for a second. “Yes. He may have kept the drugs and the gun as a proof for the Witch.”

Both Allura and Shiro look at Keith, who presses his lips together into a thin line. “I didn’t think that far. You’re better at deduction than me.”

“It could work,” she decides. “We’ll still work on the trial, but let’s go talk with Prosecutor Sanda immediately.”

Keith’s face is relieved, but only for a second. Shiro gives him a warm smile before standing up and calling Sanda. The mention of information about Sendak is enough to get a meeting with her within the hour. Thirty minutes later, both Keith and Shiro are sitting at her desk, explaining Keith’s memory about the murder and their deductions.

Shiro keeps his hand on Keith’s shoulder the whole time.

Sanda remains silent for five minutes straight. Shiro knows she didn’t believe them when they talked about the Witch, but that isn’t the most important thing at the moment and he doesn’t feel the need to convince her about that. To be honest, he would have preferred not telling her about Honerva.

“It’s not much,” she speaks at last. “But I’ll take anything I can get when it comes to this investigation. I assure you, I’ll have a search warrant for Sendak’s house tomorrow. In the meantime, I can ask Judge Montgomery to delay your trial until we can confirm this new information and hopefully find your missing evidence. I’m sure she won’t have a problem with it.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says sincerely.

Sanda nods. “I’ll call you as soon as I have news one way or another. To stay home, do not leave your house, for safety reasons. We don’t need another disappearance.”

And so, they return to Shiro’s apartment. Despite the meeting with Sanda, Keith still looks a little bit down. He avoids Shiro’s gaze as much as possible, and he tenses up when Shiro tries to touch him. Shiro can understand him, being on trial is bad enough, and now he's possibly caught in a gang fight.

Shiro decides to take his mind off the trial in the best way he can think of.

He takes a chair from the table and places it at the center of his dining room.

“Tie me up.”

“I don’t think that a good idea.” Keith passes his gaze between Shiro and the chair.

“Please,” Shiro insists. “I need to face it, just as you’re facing a trial right now.”

At the mention of the trial, Keith’s face darkens again and Shiro swears internally. It’s not supposed to go like this.

“A session may help us both relax,” he tries again.

“Sure,” Keith says at last. “Let me get the ropes.”

To be fair , Shiro thought he was ready to face this. But once he’s naked, with legs opened and tied up by the calves and ankles to the chair, wrist bound together and to the back of the chair; well, he isn’t feeling as good as he had hoped.

_Okay with: chair, ropes, bondage, blindfold, punishment, sex toys_

_Okay with: almost everything Keith can pull off_

There are still too many memories connected to this position. But it’s a memory he has to face, for himself and Keith.

“Now you’re mine,” Keith murmurs, as he ties the black blindfold over Shiro’s head. “And you _will_ talk. You will tell me what I want to know.”

“And what is that?” Shiro swallows. He understands what Keith’s trying to do. He appreciates it.

“How about… I’m the best master ever and you love me?”

Shiro chuckles. “You don’t have to torture me for that.”

“Oh.” The embarrassment is audible in Keith’s voice. “You decide, then.”

“I hate you and you’re the worst master ever.” Shiro states. “I wouldn’t tell you that, ever, because it’s not true.”

“Okay. Fine.” Keith’s mumbles; hasty and hushed.

Not seeing, in this situation, is a little bit frightening. Shiro focuses on his breathing, and his hearing. Still the smack of the crop on his nipple arrives unexpectedly. Shiro flinches a little and grits his teeth.

“Tell me, Champion.”

“Never.”

Now Keith sits on his knees, the tips of his fingers brush Shiro’s cheek. “You’re a hard man to break, Champion.”

Keith’s thumb strokes Shiro’s scar, the one on the nose. Shiro holds his breath and remains still: the feeling is strange, the skin less sensitive. It’s not unpleasant. Keith can’t know the wound on the nose is the first one they gave Shiro.

“Talk, Champion, and I’ll stop.”

The thumb strokes the other scars too. He starts with the higher one, just below the shoulder, then the one next to the left nipple. Keith is reviving Shiro’s trauma, reviving the memory of the knife that sliced through his skin.

“I won’t talk,” Shiro exhales. His breath coming fast and short. Without seeing, even without the pain, it’s easy to imagine his faceless captor as he cut and cut and cut.

“You will,” Keith replies.

He’s done rubbing the scars. He starts again, this time with his mouth. The lips press again Shiro’s skin, soft and humid. Shiro’s breath relaxes. He allows himself a small moan when Keith kisses his right arm, just where his real body ends and the prosthetic starts. Keith takes his time to suck between the flesh and the metal.

“I… won’t talk…” Shiro exhales.

Keith doesn’t answer. He moves away and returns with another of Shiro’s purchases. The vibrator for self-masturbation: Shiro only understands when Keith puts it on him, and he grits his teeth. Shiro has never used something like this before and he’s not sure he likes having that thing on his penis. Not when he’d prefers Keith’s hand.

“Fuck.”

Of course Keith turns it off just before Shiro can come.

“Tell me what I want to know and then I’ll let you come.”

“No.”

Now Keith’s tone is annoyed. “Fine.”

Suddenly, the chair falls back. Shiro struggles and closes his eyes underneath the blindfolded, preparing for the impact. In this position, he would definitely crush his arms against the ground. But he never falls: the chair stops mid-air, in a leaning position.

“If you struggle, you’ll fall,” Keith warns him. His hand is on Shiro’s leg. “So be careful.”

Shiro settles a little better and notices the chair shakes a little under him. His position is unstable. He trusts Keith to not drop him but still, he freezes. He concentrates on remaining perfectly still when Keith tickles his right sole. Shiro wants to pull away, but Keith’s hand is firm on his feet.

“Talk, Champion.”

“N-no…” Shiro releases a small laugh as he tries to stay completely still.

A hard task, as Keith tickles him again, this time using his mouth: his tongue rubs Shiro’s sole, sucks his big toe, kisses his heel. Shiro grits his teeth and decides he won’t make a sound, not even when Keith turns on the vibrator again, not even when he tickles his foot with a hand and the other with the mouth.

“I… won’t… talk…” he murmurs, before releasing a pleasured high-pitched moan. He smirks: he came, and still he didn’t talk.

“You think you won this,” Keith whispers. “You’re wrong.”

Shiro swallows: Keith didn’t turn off the vibrator. It’s still stimulating him, painfully. Shiro’s refractory period might be short, but not so short. The stimulation is annoying. He wiggles under his restraint.

Keith isn’t touching him anymore. Shiro can feel his presence in front of him, still, as he watches Shiro trying and failing not to struggle too much. The chair shudders again when Shiro has his second orgasm of the evening. Tears spring from his eyes and soak into the blindfolded, and the vibrator keeps arousing him.

“Please…”

“Talk!”

“I… won’t…”

Keith pinches one of his nipples. “Let’s wait for your third orgasm, then.”

It’s slower than the second, but Shiro long resigned himself to his plan of not moving or talking. His mouth is half-open, his breathing is fast, and he whines and wiggles and fears he’ll fall. He moans again, a long, deep sigh that accompanies the sprinkle of his sperm.

“…kerberos…”

His hands and ankles are free in a second, while the chair returns with all four legs to the ground. With a deep feeling of relief Shiro feels the vibrator turn off and he removes the blindfold. He’s a mess, he doesn’t need to look down to know it.

Keith is in front of him, his soft gaze focused on him. He gently rubs his cheeks. The caress becomes a full hug. Shiro leans into him, his head pressed against his chest.

“It’s fine, Shiro,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. You’ve been so brave.”

As the tears flow down his face, Shiro keeps his face against Keith’s body and puts his hands around Keith’s back. “Thank you.”


	9. Ninth play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the moment Keith accepts Shiro in his life, he realizes how much a mistake he made
> 
> Warnings: gag ball, slight bondage, hand jobs, anal penetration

“Stay.”

Shiro’s hand is around his wrist, tight, but not enough to make Keith think he won’t let go, if Keith asks. And he should: here, in Shiro’s house, with Shiro’s t-shirt on since he didn't bring enough, things are already too dangerous.

A blowjob during a session is one thing. Sleeping together is another thing entirely. Something Keith couldn’t afford. Shouldn’t. The best course of action would be shaking his head and rejecting Shiro’s offer.

But Shiro is in front of him, with that small, hopeful smile.

“Sure,” Keith says instead.

The hand is still there around his wrist as Keith follows him in the bedroom. The bed is messy after they used it for the aftercare. It’s familiar to Keith. Still, he settles down on the sheets, a little nervous. His ponytail is loose, so he moves his hand to remove the elastic.

“Let me,” Shiro says.

Keith nods. He gives him his back. Shiro’s fingers rub through the black hair, caressing it, and the tips of his fingers brush Keith’s neck and shoulder.

The first kiss is barely a brush on the shoulder. Keith takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t move. He closes his eyes while Shiro kisses him again, his mouth moving from the shoulder to the neck.

Keith isn’t sure how he ends up lying down on the mattress. All he knows is that Shiro’s hands and mouth are all over his body.

Keith can understand him, since most of the time their sessions are “look and do not touch”, but he doesn’t expect this hunger from Shiro. Still, his movements are delicate, soft, as if he is trying to paint the image of Keith’s body in his mind with his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro whispers and a second later he is sucking Keith’s penis, his hands gripped on Keith’s thighs.

The breath is stolen from Keith’s lungs, and he bites his lips to not scream, like Shiro intends to almost literally eat him.

This isn’t good. Keith isn’t used to opening himself up so much. He can’t afford it. He needs to bring things back into a situation he's comfortable with., One where Keith can believe he’s still in control of his feelings, even if it isn’t true.

Looking around, he sees the sexy shop bag on the bedside table. “W-wait…” he murmurs.

Despite his erection, he crawls over the mattress with the help of his hands. He touches the bag and it falls, revealing the contents. He grabs a rope and the gag ball.

“I want to touch you,” Shiro says.

“You already have,” Keith points out.

Shiro doesn’t look convinced, but nods. For a second, Keith is about to let it go. He can’t: before he really has a chance to change his mind, he ties Shiro’s hand behind his back.

“Can I make a request?” Shiro asks, as Keith opens the box of the ball gag. “Will you… fuck me?”

Keith looks at him, at his red cheeks and his soft smile and his wishful expression.

Until that moment, Keith has made Shiro come in a lot of different ways, and let the vibrators do most of the work. He doesn’t have sex with Shiro, and he doesn’t let Shiro make him come.

Slowly, he nods, and at that point Shiro lets him, almost enthusiastically, put the gag on.

The ball gag is black, with a simple buckle to fasten it. Shiro moans a little to adapt to the feeling and tries to swallow. Keith grabs for Shiro’s half-hard penis and enjoys the sound of Shiro’s muffled sighs.

A drop of saliva slips down Shiro’s bottom lip. Shiro releases a surprise sound and shuffles his head a little. Keith’s hand is up and caressing his cheek, and Shiro stops. Keith’s thumb slides down to Shiro’s mouth and he pushes on his bottom lip until the drooling increases. Saliva erupts from the ball gag and slides down his chin.

Shiro groans a complaint, then moans again because Keith’s hand is moving on his penis. Keith kisses him, sucks on his bottom lip and licks the saliva off of his skin while Shiro comes and screams under the gag.

There is a bratty expression on Shiro’s face. An expression that remains when Shiro throws himself at Keith, laying upon him and rubbing his mouth Keith’s neck undeterred by the gag. He presses his entire body against Keith’s.

The lube is still in the bag. Keith reaches it as he lets Shiro, still drooling, snuggle against his chest. He stops only when Keith’s fingers move over his rim, too caught up in the pleasurable feeling to do anything else.

Keith opens the buckles and lets the ball gag fall on the bed. Shiro sighs deeply, he licks his lips and then moans again. His look bores down on Keith, dark hair spread around his head on the mattress, his half-opened mouth and the lucid eyes.

“Fuck, Keith…”

And he kisses him, a moan between the two kisses, until Keith manages to slip his fingers out of his body. Shiro lets himself fall on the mattress, and Keith admires his broad scarred back and the arms tied up together with the red rope.

“Please…” Shiro murmurs, mouth half-hidden in the sheets.

It’s time to put the condom on, and Keith maintains his promise to fuck Shiro, with his hand griped on Shiro’s wide shoulders and his head pressed against the skin of his back. He didn’t manage to kiss the few scars on Shiro’s back during the afternoon session, since he was tied up to the chair. Keith’s going to fix it now. He undoes the rope so Shiro can move the arms from behind his back. Keith’s kisses on every scar are paired with Keith’s hard sighs and Shiro’s high-pitched moans.

When Keith comes, there are still scars left to be taken care of. So he doesn’t move, and neither does Shiro, laying down on the mattress. But Shiro knows his scars, he remembers each one of them, so he rolls them only once Keith kisses the last one.

“Ow,” Keith protests being moved without warning.

Shiro’s arms hug him and press him against his check, one hand on his back and the other on his head, as Shiro places a kiss on his forehead.

“Sorry,” Keith says. “I’m not good at this.”

“Aren’t you?” There’s a little teasing in Shiro’s tone, and a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I’m better when people stay perfectly still.”

Shiro laughs and hugs him tightly. “But I wanted to touch you,” he pouts.

“I noticed,” Keith smirks. He sighs. “We should go shower.”

“Yeah, we should.”

Shiro’s body is warm, his heartbeat against Keith’s face is sweet. For a moment, Keith would like to imagine that everything is real, and that things will be fine between him and Shiro. So he settles more comfortably in Shiro’s arms and closes his eyes, letting himself drown in the feeling of Shiro caressing his head.

When he wakes up, he can still feel the warmth around him. He curls up deeper in the sheets, whining a little before blinking his eyes open.

“Good morning.”

The first thing Keith sees is Shiro’s warm smile. He’s laying down on the bed next to him, face turned towards him. Keith’s stomach twitches a little, but then Shiro’s hand caress his cheeks and his arm and Keith’s worries shrink.

“Since your trial is on hold and Sanda told us to stay put, we can take it easy,” Shiro continues. “I can make you breakfast.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

Shiro chuckles. “So we’re even.” With a last caress on Keith’s black hair, he slides out of the bed.

“Wait,” Keith stops him. He collects the ball gag they left on the bedside table and let it dangle in front of Shiro. “Put it on.”

“And then what?” Shiro raises an eyebrow, amused. “Do you want me, wearing only the apron?” he laughs at Keith’s expression, but he takes the gag. “You have to join me for breakfast in exchange.”

Keith waits for him to disappear into the bathroom before sinking again into the soft mattress. The sound of the shower makes Keith’s thoughts flow. It’s still a mistake, he knows. He can’t help it. At least for now, he wants to have a normal life. A real relationship. He didn’t expect anyone like Shiro to walk into his life.

He doesn’t want to let him go.

When Shiro comes out of the bathroom, he has the gag on. He sticks his head in the door of the bedroom just to show Keith he obeyed, and he manages to look bratty even with the gag to force his lips open. Keith laughs and shakes his head.

God, he loves him.

He needs to keep his mind busy to avoid thinking about how much he’s screwing up things. He collects the ropes they had used the night before and brings them to the bathroom. He cleans them with a wet cloth and hangs them to dry.

Since Shiro hasn’t called him yet for breakfast (maybe because he’s gagged, his mind supplies, but he ignores it), Keith showers. He puts his hair in a high ponytail so it won’t get wet, but the water still hit the tips, so Keith pulls out the hairdryer.

He heard a strange sound coming from the dining room and he frowns.

“Shiro?” he calls.

No answer. He hears steps in his direction. With a frown, he places the hairdryer down on the washbasin. The door opens – he didn’t close it, because there is no privacy anymore between him and Shiro. He opens his mouth, fully expecting it to be Shiro calling him for breakfast with his gag and apron but-

He isn’t Shiro at the door. An unknown man points a gun at him.

“Come.”

Keith’s eyes dart around, looking for any object that he can use as a weapon. He swears: he left his knife in the bedroom. “Where’s Shiro?” he demands.

The man put the gun against Keith's chest, so he notices it has a silencer.

“Move.”

The man is not joking. Slowly, Keith nods and lifts his arms. He needs to see Shiro. He needs to know he’s safe. He walks out of the bathroom and into the dining room, the man following behind him, gun pressed against Keith’s back.

Shiro is there, wearing his gag and apron as promised, standing next to the table of the kitchenette. He’s safe, for now, and Keith makes an internal relieved sigh. Another man is pointing a gun at him. Keith observes Shiro’s face, looking for any distress signals – besides the anger of having armed men inside his house, of course.

The third man in the dining room is Sendak. He’s looking around like a lion searching for prey, and his face becomes stone when his eyes fall on Keith.

Keith doesn’t have the time to process the movement before Sendak is already on him. He shoves Keith against the wall, a hard grip on his right shoulder, and he forces the barrel of the gun in Keith’s mouth.

A muffled cry comes from Shiro, but his captor just puts his gun closer to discourage any heroics. Keith gags, but swallows to keep his emotions under control.

“I don’t like to be accused of murder, boy, especially when I’m innocent,” Sendak says. He’s calm, but the anger is visible under the surface. “I could have the charges dropped easily, of course, but someone came into my house and planted fake evidence. This time, Lotor had gone too far.”

Sendak removes the gun: Keith coughs, saliva dripping from his mouth, and pants. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s a weak lie, and he knows it.

“I’m not here to listen to your excuses, I don’t care,” Sendak replies. “I already know everything I need. I’m just here to send Lotor a message to not mess with us again.”

The other man comes near: he grabs Keith’s hair and forces his head back. A knife is now in Sendak’s hand. Keith bits his lips so he doesn't scream as the blade cuts into his right cheek. Despite his position, his eyes never leave Shiro.

The cut on the face. That’s Shiro’s past kidnapper’s signature. Damn.

Sendak releases him from his iron grip and takes his time cleaning the blade. He put it away in the pocket on his shoulder. Keith lifts his hand to press it against the wound, blood dripping down his shoulder and chest. His eyes don’t move from Shiro, who is frozen on the spot, breathing hard. He must have recognized Sendak too.

“He comes with us,” Sendak says, casually. “Lotor is the only one that will see his dead body, let the police believe he has run from his trial.”

The man nods. “What about the other one?”

Shiro flinches under Sendak’s scrutiny and Keith curls his left hand into a fist. Sendak has no right to look at Shiro. Not with that grin on his face.

“I don’t like not finishing my work, and the Witch will be pleased.” Sendak nods at the one who’s keeping Shiro under control. “Haxus, bring him into the bedroom and kill him. With that gun.”

Haxus smirks. Keith watches with horror as he moves to take the small package from the table: it’s Keith’s gun, the one that was stolen the night of the murder. He already knew Lotor had it, knew he planned to use it against Sendak, but now… now…

Shiro’s eyes scan the room for an escape route. He flinches when Haxus tries to push him forwards, and then his wide eyes find Keith’s. Keith doesn’t have a solution for either of them.

They would kill both of them no matter what. They were now living proof that Sendak was a criminal. Keith needed a distraction- something to gain them some time. But how?

Shiro moans a little.

“Do you want me to cut your friend’s face again?” Sendak comments. “Move.”

“How do you want it done, boss?” Haxus has both guns in his hands now, and he kicks Shiro in the back to make him move. “Bullet in the head?”

“Take off the apron, tied him to the bed and shoot him in the heart,” Sendak replies, cold and scrupulous. It’s an ordinary job for him. “Let’s pretend he killed his lover before running away.”

“No… Stop…” Keith murmurs. Shiro is being forced through the door of the antechamber when Keith shouts, “I know where the drugs are!”

Haxus stops, more because of the shouting than because of the meaning of Keith’s declaration. Sendak turns his head to face him again.

Okay, good. That’s some time gained. Keith breathes hard and tries to ignore Shiro’s frown.

“The Quintessence,” he continues. “That’s what you call it, right? The new drug Lotor is selling around, the special one. He’s stealing your clients, especially the richer ones.”

Sendak is looking at him intently. He doesn’t ask Keith anything, but he doesn’t seem willing to stop him either. It’s a start.

“You’re looking for it. I can give it to you… if you let him go.”

Keith nods with his head towards Shiro. Sendak’s eyes dart for a second to Shiro, before turning again to observe Keith.

“I don’t need your help, boy.”

“Are you sure?” Keith replies smugly. “You’re looking for that drug, I know for certain. I’ve known since the night you killed Bandor.”

This time, Sendak’s eyes narrow, and his face crumbles a little. Keith smirks. He has the upper hand.

“That is Lotor’s method, using unaware people for his plans. Bandor was one of them. You were waiting for him in his apartment, hoping he would tell you where the drug was.”

“You can’t prove that. I have an alibi for that night.”

“I don’t need to,” Keith replies. “Because I can prove that the apartment next to Bandor’s was empty. The owner was out of town that night because two days before the murder they were wired a huge sum of money. The transfer was from a foreign bank account, that I’m pretty sure is yours.”

“I can admit, I’m impressed,” Sendak comments, and he looks sincere. “So you know about Narti too, I guess?”

“About the fact she was a traitor, only working under Lotor to spy on him? Yes, I know about it. The drug at the port, Narti tried to steal it for you. She didn’t know it was a trap.”

“Traitors get killed, that much I can assure you.” Sendak scoffs. “So Lotor sent you to kill her and then something went wrong so he tried to pin that on me, because Lotor still doesn’t understand in our world big, complicated plans don’t work. I don’t care about any of it.”

“But you do care about the drug,” Keith states, trying to bring the conversation back to his point. “Up till now, Lotor had his products made and imported from outside. But now… now the drug is selling well. Lotor is moving the production here, to guarantee more income. And that means more problems for your affairs. I know because I saw the building of the new laboratory.”

“You do.” It isn’t a question.

Keith nods. “I can bring you there. The formula, the ingredients… it’s all there. You can take back the entire drug market from Lotor, using his own new drug.”

The grip on his face is suddenly tight, and Keith’s heart skips a beat, afraid his plan isn’t working. The wound on his cheek hurts.

“If you’re lying to me, boy, you’ll be sorry,” Sendak threatens.

“I’m not,” Keith pants. “Just… don’t hurt him.”

Sendak doesn’t release him from his grip, but he turns his head to look at Shiro. Keith tries to ignore the surprise and betrayal on Shiro’s face.

“Caring about someone is a weakness,” Sendak comments, and in a twisted way the thought pleases him. “Good. Bring me to the factory and I’ll let your friend go.”

Internally, Keith sighs of relief. He did it. For now Shiro is safe. Sendak releases his grip and Keith’s gaze wanders around, waiting for the next move. He doesn’t look at Shiro.

“Take him to put something on,” Sendak orders.

Keith follows the lead of the armed man: from the guest room, he takes a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. The man even lets him press a towel to the wound. It’s probably still a gruesome view, but at least it stopped bleeding.

The others move in the meantime: Keith finds Sendak and Haxus in Shiro’s room, with Shiro sitting down on the bed. His expression is different from before: he’s worried. About him.

He shouldn’t be.

Sendak passes Keith one of the red ropes. “Tied him up. You’re good with knots, aren’t you?”

“You said you’ll let him go.”

“Later,” Sendak replies. “Until you show me the factory, he’ll stay here, as a guarantee.”

Keith grits his teeth, but nods. Time, and a chance. That’s all he can buy for now. And yes, he’s pretty good with knots. He doesn’t take the rope Sendak hands him, but another one, the longest of the ropes Shiro bought.

Shiro shakes his head as Keith approaches him. He muffled under the gag, drooling, and Keith forces himself to not look at him. He understands what Shiro’s trying to say: Sendak will still kill both of them once he gets the factory. Keith is pretty aware of it.

He doesn’t have another choice and, to be honest, the thing that's breaking his heart right now is the idea of leaving Shiro tied up with a criminal. Forcing Shiro into this situation again… Keith doesn’t want to think about how much he screwed up.

The same rope turns around Shiro’s wrist and ankles and then it’s used to connect and presses arms and legs together in a strict hogtie. Shiro wiggles again under his restraints while Keith rolls him on his right side (at least, he still has the apron on) and this time he’s angry. He glares at Keith and his gaze softens a little. He moans in Keith’s direction.

“I’m still your master,” Keith whispers to him, as he bends to wipe away the saliva from his face with his sleeve. “You still have your safeword.” With a last caress, he turns to Sendak, who nods.

“If you don’t hear from me in two hours, kill him,” it’s the last order Sendak gives to Haxus before they leave the apartment.

Keith tries to focus on his next move, tries to forget the look Shiro just gave him.

Sendak’s S.U.V. is parked in the parking lot of Shiro’s building. No one is around, and Keith is sure the cameras are off. The windows of the car are obscured, so no one can see the inside. Convenient, when you have a man with a wound on his face. Sendak sits down on the back seat with Keith, while his man drives.

Keith gives him directions while they go through the city. The traffic is intense, caused by a car crashed, and they get stuck in it. Keith grits his teeth: he doesn’t have time to spare. And neither does Sendak apparently, he looks pretty nervous.

Finally, they manage to get free from the traffic and Keith guides them to the suburbs of the city. On the east side, there are two abandoned factories. Now they serve as a home for the homeless, until the buildings are sold and rebuilt again. Keith points for the driver to park near a small path between the two buildings.

“It’s here,” he announces, nodding with his head at the rusty door on the right side.

“Stay here,” Sendak orders his driver.

Gun in his hand, he gets out of the car and drags Keith with him, using his prosthetic hand to squeeze Keith's arm. “There is no surveillance?”

“No. Only a secret code.”

Keith takes out one of the bricks, revealing a keypad behind. He uses it to open the door. They climb up the stairs until they reach another door. Unlike the first one, the second door is new, state of the art and made of iron, and with no locks. There is a keypad next to it. Keith presses in the code. 0605. The door opens with a hiss.

“Lotor loves these new technologies,” Sendak comments. “Enter first.”

It’s a wise choice, but not one Keith isn’t prepared to. The moment he walks into the room, the alarm that the code activated is already on. Keith closes his eyes just before the flash busts out, and he hears Sendak’s surprised yell behind him while the flash blinds him.

Three seconds, and Keith opens his eyes again. He rushes to the desk and grabs his service weapons. Sendak is standing by the door, rubbing his sore eyes, still blinded. Keith shoots twice, aiming for his right shoulder. Sendak screams and falls backward. He regains his sight, just not fast enough to avoid Keith disarming him. He tries to stand up, only to be blocked by Keith, who puts his foot right above the wound on his shoulder.

A quick look at the room and Sendak understands he’s been framed. “What kind of place is this?” he asks, looking at the board with all of Lotor’s photos on it.

“Now, you call your man and order him to release Shiro,” Keith says. The gun is in both hands, aimed at Sendak’s head.

Sendak’s gaze returns to Keith, and he smirks. “Victory… or death.”

No point in insisting, there is no time. He needs to get back to Shiro, now. Still pointing his gun at Sendak, he moves to the desk and grabs a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. With a last kick to the wound, Keith binds Sendak to the radiator of the room. Patting him down reveals another knife in addition to the one Sendak used to cut his face, and the cellphone.

He brings everything with him then he shuts the door and resets the trap with Sendak inside.

Outside the building, Keith glances at the car. Luckily for him, the driver isn’t looking at the door, but at the end of the small path, Keith crawls allowing the car itself protect him from view until he reached the driver’s seat. He jumps up and grabs the driver by the back of the head and smashed his head against the wheel before he gets a chance to take out his own gun.

Keith drags the driver’s unconscious body out of the car. He hopes the traffic decreased, otherwise he won’t make back to Shiro’s apartment in time. He’s about to turn on the engine, when he hears the sound of sirens, and two black S.U.V.s appear from both ends of the street.

He hadn’t forgotten that the fake code not only activates the alarm inside the room but also sends a distress signal to the headquarters. He just didn’t expect them to reach the base so fast. He gets out of Sendak’s car and walks towards one of them.

Antok is the first one to reach him. “Keith. Are you okay?”

“No thanks to you guys,” he snarls back. He isn’t addressing Antok, but Kolivan, who’s running up. He still has the same, impassible face, but Keith learned how to read it. “You knew Sanda works for Sendak! The moment you asked me to go to her,” he accuses Kolivan. “You put Shiro in danger!”

He realizes most of his anger is addressed towards himself.

“I did suspect Sanda was a Galra spy inside the Prosecutor’s office,” Kolivan admits. “I don’t have any proof, that’s why I asked you to use Lotor’s plan against her. I did not expect Sendak would act so fast, and I apologize for this.”

“Whatever.” Keith scoffs. “I need to go. Shiro is still a prisoner in his house with one of Sendak’s men.”

Kolivan stops him, grabbing his arm. “Where is Sendak now?”

“Locked in my secret hideout.”

“He’s safe?”

“Two gunshot wounds to the shoulder. Would you please…?”

“Antok.” Kolivan doesn’t let go of Keith , while Regris and Thace join them from the other side of the street. “We need an ambulance and some reinforcements. We’re transferring Sendak to one of our facilities now.”

“Sure.” Antok grabs his phone.

Keith struggles under his grip. “I need to go! Shiro…!”

“No. You can’t compromise your mission that way, Keith. We need you here, for now.”

“Ulaz is at the courthouse,” Regris comments, as he handcuffed the driver. “We can send him to Shirogane’s apartment.”

“Call 911 too,” Kolivan nods. “It’s better if the police are involved in the situation too, since we’ll have to stumble in their trials.”

Thace takes Keith’s arm. “Ulaz will save Shirogane.”

As Antok and Regris make the calls and Kolivan leaves to go collect Sendak from the secret hideout, Thace leads Keith to his car and offers him the first aid kit to patch up his wound. Keith’s adrenaline is wearing off and now he’s more sad than angry.

Kolivan took a big risk with Sanda, but the truth is that Shiro’s situation is Keith’s fault. He shouldn’t have let Shiro befriend him. He shouldn’t have allowed Shiro to continue being his slave. Or his lawyer, and he shouldn’t have stayed at Shiro’s place.

Everything is Keith’s fault. Shiro will hate him now.

But at least he hopes he’s alive.

He closes his eyes and lays against the seat, miserable. Thace lets him rest until the reinforcements arrive.


	10. Tenth play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro isn't going to give up
> 
> Warnings: hogtie, self-bondage, handcuffs, tape gag, anal vibrator

It takes three calls for Haxus to get annoyed. He observes Shiro’s cellphone, with anger: it sits on the dresser, and despite his glaring it hasn’t stopped ringing. He could turn it off, or destroy it, but maybe that doesn't work with Sendak’s plan to make it look like Shiro was killed by Keith, so he has to endure the Star Wars theme.

Shiro, on the other hand, has other problems at the moment. He rolls his body to lie with his chest on the mattress and wiggles a little to avoid the stiffness of his muscles. Hogtie may be one of the most comfortable positions, but not so much when you’re forced to stay like that for long. He rubs his face against the sheets to wipe away the remainder of saliva leftover from the gag.

Luckily for him, his mind is so focused on escaping. That prevents him from thinking too much about Keith’s words, if not Keith’s situation. Shiro realizes very well that Sendak will kill him once they reach the drug factory – no, that thought is still very prominent in his mind, and the real goal is escaping. No, he doesn’t want to think about Lotor, about the drugs, about Narti’s murder, or what it all means.

First, escape. 

Second, save Keith.

Third, deal with everything else. 

The cell phone rings again. Haxus drums his legs, annoyed. Shiro speaks something intelligible behind his gag. If he can convince Haxus to let him answer the phone… Getting Haxus near enough…

“Shut up,” is the only reaction he gets.

Inside, Shiro swears. He needs Haxus out of the way, if only for a minute.

Then, a miracle happens: between one call and another, the doorbell rings. It’s a long sound, made by someone desperate to be heard. Then, several knocks at the door.

“Shiro! Keith! Are you there!” Hunk’s voice. “If you don’t answer, I’ll be forced to break down the door!”

Hunk is strong enough to do that but, since Shiro knows him well, he doubts that he would really do it without checking for other options first. Haxus, though, doesn’t know that. With a feral grin, he stands up and moves towards the front door.

His chance! Shiro takes a deep breath and then he pushes his legs down and his arms out to the sides. The rope swirls around and loosens from around Shiro’s body.

It’s true: Keith is pretty good with knots. And ropes. So good that he managed to tie up Shiro with the particular knot that let a person get free by themselves. Shiro noticed it as soon as Keith left, when he had tried the three snaps to calm himself.

Outside, Hunk was still calling for Shiro and Keith, and still knocking at the door.

Shiro moves the ropes away and pulls the gag down his neck. He wipes the saliva with the back of his hand, and his eyes fell on the gun Haxus left on the dresser. It was his own gun, not Keith’s gun, the one he’s supposed to use to kill Shiro. Haxus must have left it here because he preferred used Keith’s gun to pin any murder on him.

For Shiro, it doesn’t matter. It’s a gun. He takes it and steps out into the hallway. Haxus is just next to the door, gun in his hand, ready to shoot anyone trespassing through the door. He isn’t watching behind him.

It’s been almost two years since Shiro has used a gun and he hopes he still has the skill. He lifts the gun in his hand and shoots two times: Haxus must have heard a noise because he tries to turn, but the bullets hit him in the arm and in the back.

“My God! Shiro! Keith! What’s happening?”

Haxus stumbles forwards. Shiro rushes to him and kicks him in the chest, then presses his foot on Haxus’ wrist. Haxus yells and releases the gun. Shiro throws it out of the way, then moves back, still keeping his gun aimed at Haxus.

“Shiro! Keith!”

“I’m here, Hunk. I’m fine.”

“Oh, thank God!” Hunk exhales. “But…!”

While Haxus is still on the ground, in pain, Shiro steps forwards enough to reach the door handle with one hand. He manages to open the door without letting the gun move from its location. Hunk opens the door wide and almost hits Shiro.

He stops, mouth half-opened, as he looks at the man on the floor and Shiro painting his gun.

“Go in my bedroom,” Shiro orders. “grab the ropes and tie him up.”

Hunk obeys immediately: his style is pretty different from Keith, but once he finishes, Haxus’ wrist and ankles are bound enough. Shiro allows himself to relax a bit and lowers the guns.

“Uhm…” Hunk passes his gaze between Shiro and Haxus, who still groans in pain. “I’m pretty sure there is a reasonable explanation of all this…”

Before Shiro can tell Hunk everything, two policemen appear from the stairs: they see Shiro – the naked back of Shiro, to be specific – and the two guns, and immediately they raise their weapons.

“Put the guns down and raise your arms!” one of them yells.

“Oh, things are going to become weirder,” Hunk comments.

Shiro turns his head just a little, to see that they are actually policemen. Slowly, he obeys: he bends down and places the guns on the floor, then stands up again and turns towards the door.

The two policemen are Kinkade and Leifsdotter, officers Allura’s office has worked with before. And they recognize him too, because Kinkade blinks and even Leifsdotter’s usual blank stare frowns.

“Mister Shirogane…?”

“That’s me,” Shiro nods. “It’s not like it seems.”

Hunk moves to stand next to him when they let the two policemen inside the apartment. They notice immediately the wounded man on the floor. Carefully, Leifsdotter moves the guns out of the way of everyone.

“He doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger, but we should probably call for an ambulance.”

Kinkade nods. “We received a call about a break-in at this address,” he explains. “Can you tell me what happened, Mister Shirogane?”

“Sendak and two of his men, that’s what happened. They kidnapped Keith – my client,” he corrects himself, “and this guy stayed here to keep me hostage, so Keith would cooperate with them. I managed to get free and disarmed him.”

“That sounds credible,” Leifsdotter says, after she called the ambulance. “He still has the marks from the ropes on his skin and the gag around the neck.”

Hunk, who just noticed it that moment, coughs a little. Kinkade sighs.

“I still think we should, you know, for procedure-”

“I don’t care, arrest me if you must,” Shiro interrupts him. “But Keith’s out there, and Sendak is going to kill him if we don’t find them now.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The voice belongs to a man in a uniform Shiro doesn’t recognize, standing at the door, comfortable like it was his own home. He turns his head to the right to look over Kinkade and Leifsdotter. “Keith Kogane is safe, and Sendak is in custody. And we should take this other one,” he nods at the man on the floor, “once the ambulance arrives.” He moves in front of the two policemen and shows them his badge. “Captain Ulaz.”

Kinkade gasps. “That… means…?”

“No, I won’t intrude in your investigation,” Ulaz replies. “So please follow your procedures, don’t pay me any attention.”

The news of Keith being saved, drains all the adrenaline from Shiro’s body. He releases a long, relieved sigh. “Keith is fine?”

Ulaz turns to face him. “Affirmative. He’s the one that informed us about your situation, Mister Shirogane.”

“Where is he now?”

“The trial!” Hunk chimes in. “No, not that Keith is at the court, I mean, I don’t know where he is, but… I’m here because the trial is on and we need you Shiro!”

“What do you mean the trial is on, Sanda told us…” Shiro’s voice trails. Of course. Sanda lied: that’s how Sendak found them. “The trial is on? Without me and without Keith?”

“Yeah, Judge Montgomery wasn’t happy,” Hunk replies. “We gave her an excuse for your delay and Matt is helping us but-”

“Matt is a civil attorney!”

“Yes, that’s the point. We should go,” Hunk turns to the other three people in the room, “can we?”

“Well, to be honest, this is highly irregular,” Kinkade says. “We should be taking your witness statements first, then waiting for the CSI, and so…”

“I have the feeling there’s nothing regular about this case,” Leifsdotter comments.

“I will accompany you,” Ulaz offers. “And I can keep an eye on you for them,” he nods to the two policemen, who nod in agreement.

“Thank you,” Shiro says and takes a step towards the door.

Hunk coughs a little. “You should probably get dressed first.”

With an embarrassed look, Shiro runs in his bedroom: two minutes later he emerges again, with his messy suit on. Sure he still has the sign of the gag on his face, but he doesn’t care right now. Ulaz’s SUV is fast and he also doesn’t really care about street laws.

Ulaz assures Shiro again that Keith is safe, and that Keith will probably join them later on, but he’s needed at the moment to give statements about what happened with Sendak. Shiro suspects he’s actually under arrest for Narti’s murder, or his ties to Lotor, and whatever affairs Lotor has with the Galra gang.

Hunk calls Allura to warn her of their arrival, and she informs Shiro that Iverson was questioning Zethrid, and she swore that she saw Keith and Narti speaking about the theft.

“The theft, but not the not the drugs, right?”

“No. She didn’t mention anything about drugs.”

So she was lying.

He wasn't sure yet what to do with the information he had gotten from Keith and Sendak’s dialogue, but Zethrid was definitely lying, and she was obviously doing it for a reason.

Once in court, Shiro stomps up the aisle towards the bench. He ignores the concerned looks from his colleagues, and the way Allura stands up expecting him to join her at the bench.

“Oh, thank God,” Matt exhales. He looks exhausted.

“Thank you for finally joining us, Mister Shirogane,” Judge Montgomery says, sarcastically.

“I apologize, your Honor,” he says abruptly, and he turns his attention to Zethrid, still on the witness’ stand. “But now I’m here and I can question the witness.”

“Your Honor,” Iverson stands up, “we’ve spent the last forty minutes with the defense, I don’t think the witness can give us any more…”

Shiro ignores him too, and anticipates the judge before she can stop him. He stops in front of Zethrid’s spot and places his hand on the wooden desk.

“You work with Lotor, right? Exclusively as a master, or as a drug dealer too?”

Zethrid’s eyes bulge.

“Let me remind you that you are under oath.” Shiro continued “What do you know about Narti’s murder, for real?” he pauses. “Were you there? Lotor ordered you to come here and lie, didn't he? Are you a double agent for Sendak too? Why are you lying about Keith? Tell us!”

“Mister Shirogane!” The judge’s yelp lacks her usual paternalistic tone, and she looks more incredulous than annoyed. “Come up here immediately. And the prosecutor, too.”

With a last glare at Zethrid, Shiro moves up to the judge's bench. Iverson joins him, and the look he gives Shiro is worried.

“What was all that?” the judge asks. “Is there something this court should be updated? For example, why the defendant isn’t here yet.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Shiro states. “I believe we should postpone the trial pending further investigation, given what happened.”

“It would be nice if you would inform us of whatever you are talking about,” the judge comments, now sounding annoyed.

“The fact that we suspect prosecutor Sanda is in league with the Galra gang, and the fact that not two hours ago Sendak almost killed me and took the defendant hostage, is that enough for you?”

Iverson gasps and frowns at the same time. “What the-” and he’s too surprised to finish the sentence.

The judge startles. She blinks at Shiro, waiting for him to explain himself better. She sighs when he remains silent and stubborn, but before she can ask more, her eyes fall on the entrance of the room, and she snorts.

Both Iverson and Shiro turn: a man with the same uniform exchanges words with Ulaz, who had remained by the door, before walking up to join them at the judge’s stand.

“General Kolivan, I hope you have a good reason for barging into my courtroom,” she comments, tiredly.

“I do,” Kolivan says. “We should speak in private. Along with Prosecutor Iverson and Mister Shirogane.”

“Come into my office.”

She turns and leaves the room from the backdoor: the three men follow her into the second room off the hallway. She sits at the desk and crosses her arms. “I’m listening.”

“My men are arresting prosecutor Sanda at this very moment,” Kolivan explains. “We suspected she was a spy for the Galra gang, and finally, we manage to get proof of it.”

“That’s unsettling news,” the judge says. Iverson keeps back a surprise exclamation only because Shiro gave them the same information a few minutes earlier. “I’m not sure why that should be of interest to this trial.”

Kolivan inclines his head towards Shiro. “Yesterday, Keith and I went to Sanda. I mean the defendant. He had informed me that he suspected Sendak to be Narti’s murderer and his own attacker. We then explained this to Sanda, hoping she would search Sendak’s house and find some evidence, at the very least we were hoping for the defendants missing gun. She told us that she would speak to you about delaying the trial until the search was completed. Obviously she never informed you. Instead, early this morning Sendak broke into my home, intent on killing both me and the defendant. The only reason I am not dead is that the defendant convinced Sendak that he could lead him to something he needed.”

“Sendak is under arrest right now, with his men,” Kolivan continues. “We have a record of Sanda warning him of the defendant’s testimony.”

“I guess this is good news for the investigation of the Galra gang,” Montgomery comments. “But is Sendak actually Narti’s killer?”

Shiro held his breath. He didn't have this answer.

“No,” Kolivan says, his expression still unreadable. “Sendak is guilty of many crimes, the assassination attempt of Mister Shirogane being just the last of it, but he’s innocent of Narti’s murder.”

Iverson frown. “So the defendant was lying? Or he was just mistaken?”

“He was following my orders,” Kolivan answers. “Since the beginning of this trial, we have had a suspect for Narti’s murder. This suspect is the same one that framed the defendant in the first place. Worse than that, he blackmailed the defendant, for him to accuse Sendak. We decided to use it against both him and Sendak.”

“What a complicated plan,” the judge comments.

“It is,” Kolivan confirms. “It came from a series of unfortunate events.”

Shiro finds himself breathing again. Kolivan is talking about an innocent Keith, and another person is responsible for the murder.

“Who is this person you claimed killed Narti? Do you have any evidence to prove it?” the judge asks.

“It’s Lotor Daibazaal. Well, now he goes by the name of Lotor Sincline.”

“The owner of the club where the victim worked?”

Kolivan nods. “In truth, he is the secret son of Zarkon Daibazaal, the head of the Galra gang. Years ago, we tried to use Lotor against his own father, to reveal his criminal activities. It didn’t work, and Lotor almost got killed. So, now, Lotor is trying to destroy his father’s empire the same way it was built: via crime. He’s definitely involved in robbery and drug dealers and at least one murder.”

“Narti worked for him,” Iverson states.

“But she was a spy for Zarkon,” Shiro adds. That much is confirmed from Keith’s confession to Sendak. “That’s why she got killed.”

“Exactly.” Kolivan nods again. “My men are arresting Lotor and his gang now. I’m pretty sure he’s going to confess Narti’s murder soon enough. He will attempt to make a deal in exchange for time off his sentence, and we hope he’ll have enough good information for us to finally take down Zarkon’s too. And Sendak… Since Lotor tried to frame him, we’re sure he’ll be ready to tell us everything he knows about him as well. It’s our chance to finally take down the two largest gangs around.”

“I… I see,” the judge whispers.

“There is no reason to continue this trial. I suggest the procurator withdraw all the charge against the defendant.”

“The defendant worked for Lotor too,” Iverson replies. “I understand he collaborated with you for proving Sanda’s treason, but how can we be sure he isn’t the real murder and now he’s trying to pin it to his boss? We can put the trial on hold until we have Lotor’s confession.”

Kolivan’s expression doesn’t change. He takes the folder in his hand and hands it to the judge. “I think this will be enough to clear the defendant of all charges.”

The judge takes the folder and leafs through it. Her eyes widen. “I… guess it is.”

She passes it to Iverson, who has a similar reaction. Once the folder is in Shiro’s hand, he doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he didn’t expect _that_.

“Can we go, then?” Kolivan asks, and the judge nods.

They all return to the court. Shiro joins his team at the bench but refuses to look at the curious gazes of the others. He places the folder on the desk, and he notices just barely that Lance grabs it.

“Keith is here,” Hunk whispers to Shiro, and tilts his head towards the door.

Shiro looks and sees Keith: the wound on the cheek has been patched up and overall he looks fine. He stands next to Ulaz and another man with the same uniform. Shiro restrains himself from running to him.

“Your honor,” Iverson says once he reaches his own bench. “The prosecutor would like to withdraw all the charges against the defendant.”

“The request is granted,” the judge says. “I thank the jury and everyone else for their services. You may go. Court adjourned.”

“Oh. Oh. Wow,” Hunk exhales. “That means we win, right?”

“Well, we didn’t win _per se_ ,” Pidge replies. “It’s kinda a draw between us.”

“We didn’t lose either,” Hunk answers.

“So, I guess, you can’t say anymore that we always win, but you can still say you never lose?” Matt proposes.

Shiro is only half paying attention to their discussion, and Allura frowns concerned. She still wants to understand the situation but his gaze is focused on Keith.

Zethrid leaves the witness’ stand and tries to leave the room as fast as possible. Ulaz and the other man block her route. She growls something, until Keith pushes her against one of the benches and handcuffs her arms behind her back.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Narti Kova and drug dealing. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Lance expresses loudly what Shiro had been thinking since Kolivan gave him the folder.

“You’re fucking NSA?!”

Keith and Shiro’s gaze meet for a brief instant, before Keith turns his head on the other side. Then, Kolivan brushes Keith’s shoulder. He pushes Zethrid, who’s showing a very large vocabulary of swear words and threats, and they disappear behind the entrance door.

Ulaz’s figure blocks Shiro’s view. “Mister Shirogane, would you please come with me so we can get your statement about what happened today with Sendak?”

Shiro reserves a small look at the others who are still incredulous. Allura gives him a brief nod, but the look in her eyes says she expects a full explanation later. Shiro isn’t sure he has all the answers.

He follows Ulaz into a private room off the court, probably one the prosecutor’s office lent to the NSA just for this. Shiro doesn’t have to say anything: Ulaz has already had a statement ready for him, coming probably from Keith’s testimony. Shiro adds in the part about Sendak’s break-in and then signs it. Ulaz doesn’t expect much else from him.

“What about Keith?” he asks, once they’re done.

“Information about him is classified, I’m sorry.”

Outside the room, the others are waiting for him. Allura places herself in front of Ulaz, arms crossed and a very determined expression on her face. Lance standing just next to her, like a back-up.

“I hope you have everything under control,” she says. “I don’t like the idea of one of my people in danger, again, because of your investigations.”

“I can’t give you any details,” Ulaz says, “but once we secured everyone-”

“Yeah, we've heard that story once before,” Lance interrupts him. “You should know, it didn’t go well last time.”

Old Shiro would have been angry at them. Would have complained that he could handle things by himself, that they don’t need to protect him. After all, he just freed himself from Haxus. But Keith’s sessions had taught him to let others take care of him, and he loves that he can so much.

“A minute.” Ulaz takes his phone and he moves far enough away that they can’t listen to his conversation, even if Shiro is sure he hears something about ‘Keith being quieter that way’, something he definitely would ask about if Ulaz would answer. “I have orders,” Ulaz says after he ends the call, “to protect Mister Shirogane until we’re sure there will be no threat to his life.”

That’s how Shiro finds himself in a very expensive hotel in the countryside, with Ulaz and other Marshall’s, guarding his room 24/h. He can’t go outside, not even for lunch or dinner, and calls are limited and controlled. Shiro understands that’s how temporary witness protection program works, but he isn’t used to not doing anything. It makes him even more nervous.

At least, he has the television.

He uses it to follow the latest news about the big NSA’s investigation. As Kolivan predicts, both Lotor and Sendak are ready to bad-mouth the other faction in a pathetic attempt at revenge, and hoping for a lighter sentence. Their confessions bring about a series of arrests, including Zarkon’s (the biggest one, they make at least three different special programs about it) and Honerva’s, even if her being the Witch is still up to debate. Narti’s murder is all but forgotten in the mess of other crimes.

Keith’s role in the matter remains secret. Kolivan releases a couple of interviews (in which he literally says nothing, at least nothing new, frustrating the journalists to no end), but he is the only NSA agent to appear in public.

A week after Honerva’s arrest, Ulaz tells Shiro that the situation has been declared safe enough for him to return to his apartment.

“I suggest you change your locks to a more sophisticated one,” he comments, before giving him a yellow envelope. “This is for you.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t seen it,” Ulaz answers. “It’s something related to your relationship with one of our agents. I was told to assure you nothing of the contents has been cataloged they are the only available copies.”

Shiro waits until he’s relaxed again at home before opening the envelope: it contains three USB’s and one CD. They all have the same contents, a folder named ‘T. Shirogane, lawyer – Champion’, that contains a series of videos, named by date. Since the dates match Shiro’s appointments at the Sincline Club, it isn’t hard to guess the content.

Still, Shiro releases a small gulp when he opens the first one and sees himself in room #3, with his first meeting with Keith. Of course Lotor recorded every single meeting, they could be useful for blackmail in the future. Had Keith known about the hidden camera? He had to. Shiro wonders if his decision to stick with Lotor’s plan for so long has anything to do with it.

Probably not. Keith has a mission to follow.

But Kolivan spoke about blackmailing back then…

He watches all the videos. It’s so strange thinking that for Keith, this was only a cover for his true job, but still he does it with professionalism. Shiro feels a little stupid, considering how he followed him outside the club and Keith was probably trying to keep Shiro out of the way.

Shiro leaves the house and goes to the sexy shop. There are announcements of a BDSM party in three days. Shiro contemplates going for a second before entering the shop. He stops to carefully choose a vibrator.

“This one is good,” the shop assistant appears at his back. “Eight different types of stimulation, all can be operated with the controller.” He takes a look at the other things Shiro has in his bags and adds, “if it’s for your sub, I may suggest-”

“No,” Shiro cuts him off.

He barely waits to be back in his apartment before he gets naked.

The red tape was used to ties ankles and calves to the tights, forcing Shiro’s legs apart. Not the most comfortable position, especially since Shiro has to do all by himself, but it does the trick. He moans as he slides the vibrator inside, then another piece of tape goes upon his mouth.

The laptop is on the bed and Shiro rolls a little to press play at the video sequence, then lies down on the bed, the vibrator controller in his hand. His wrist enters in the cuff hanged at the bed headboard: it’s not the same because Shiro can get free from them easily, still it’s something.

_“Who gives you permission to speak?”_

He closes his eyes and turns the vibrator on. It’s comfortable, and Shiro lets himself carried away by Keith’s voice.

_“I’m your master now, let me take care of you, okay?”_

With every new sentence, he changes the type of stimulation, trying to reproduce the idea that Keith is in the room with him.

_“Champion? Are you okay?”_

It doesn’t work at all. Still, he endures it.

_“Come on, boy, come here.”_

The orgasm is slow and pretty unsatisfying.

Shiro turns off the video, destroys the CD’s and the USB, then goes out looking for Keith. His apartment, that Shiro frequented often, is now empty, and with a big ‘for rent’ sign on the front door. Five calls later, Shiro has the address an NSA information post, that should have info on agents.

The person at the desk ends up being extremely unhelpful, refusing to give Shiro any help with his request. Shiro is at the point of threatening to camp in the hallways of the building until someone seriously talks to him. After all, it isn’t an unreasonable request: all he wants is to just talk to Keith again.

Luckily for the receptionist, Kolivan comes out of the lift with a woman who looks very familiar, even if Shiro can’t quite remember when or where he met her. Ignoring the complaints of the receptionist, he stomps right towards Kolivan.

“Mister Shirogane,” he greets Shiro. “May I help you? Did something happen?”

“No. I’m searching for Keith.” He realizes now ‘Keith’ could be a fake name too. “We never managed to have… closure. I really wish to see him.”

“You crossing paths with our agent had been an accident,” Kolivan says. “It brought positive aspects out for the case, but overall, you shouldn’t worry about him anymore.”

He doesn’t expect Shiro to say anything else, so he walks past him and heads towards the exit door. Shiro hears the woman with him whispering, “I don’t think he considered that an accident.”

Damn right.

_I’m not giving up on you._


	11. Eleventh play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith meet again.
> 
> No warnings

The shocked look of Pidge, Lance and Hunk’s faces shouldn’t surprise Keith. He hasn’t announced his visit to the office after all, and he has his uniform on. Still, he feels a little uneasy.

“Hi.”

He should have called before.

“What are you doing here?” Lance says, and his remark comes out more surprised than angry. “Don’t you have to be around saving the world or whatever?”

“Not really?” Keith raises an eyebrow. “I mean, the outcome of the Galra investigation has been a mess, and I’m still sorting out all the evidence I’ve collected in the past three years…”

“It doesn’t sound very exciting,” Hunk comments.

“Not at all,” Keith confirms. He’s about to add something, but Shiro, Allura and Coran join the others at the meeting room, and Keith forgets what’s about to say. His eyes are fixed on Shiro’s face and he relaxes a little noticing that there isn’t any anger on it.

“We didn’t expect to see you again,” Allura says softly. “The NSA already apologized for the inconvenience that their investigation caused us.”

“She’s referring at the fact we lost our perfect winning score,” Lance chirps in.

“And they paid us for our work, even if they made clear they don’t expect any more from us,” Allura continues. “Even though we offered our expertise for the upcoming trial against the Galra gang. Are you here because of that?”

“Uhm, no, actually.” Keith is aware of the situation. “Since Shiro keeps calling the agency offices every day, I guess you really wanted an explanation about what happened.”

“Shiro definitely needs another kind of explanation,” Allura replies, with a small laugh. Shiro coughs and throws her a glare. “But yes, an explanation would be nice,” she ignores Shiro and she sits down at the table, crossing her legs. “Some things are still unclear for us.”

“Ask what you’d like, I will try to answer as much as possible.” Keith nods.

“I have a question.” Pidge raises her hand. “Who is your informatics agent?”

“She’s sulking because she tried and mostly failed to find out information about you. You’re a ghost everywhere,” Hunk explains to Keith.

“I’m not sulking,” Pidge protests. “I’m just… eager to learn new tricks.”

“I suggest you to not try to learn any more ‘tricks’,” Keith says. “You’re already on a list.”

“What? What list?”

“Please, Keith. Tell us more about Narti’s murder,” Allura brings the conversation back to the main point. “Is it true it’s connected to Bandor’s dead?”

Keith nods. He sits down between Lance and Pidge and everyone gathers around him to listen to the explanation.

“Lotor had the habit of using people who were unaware for some of his plots,” Keith starts. “Bandor was a delivery boy, and Lotor chose him to do a special delivery for him. If he got caught, no one would be able to connect him to Lotor, and there would never be any proof. I surveilled him hoping to find some evidence to actually connect the drugs to Lotor, but Sendak got to him first.”

“So Sendak is the killer?” Hunk asks.

“Or one of his men,” Keith sighs. “It’s still unclear, but definitely Sendak was the instigator, and Narti was the one that gave him the information. Pidge’s assumptions were correct: Narti met Honerva at the town library for this reason.”

“So the civil war wasn’t between Sendak and Honerva, but between the Galra gang and Lotor’s?” Allura asks.

“Yes. But Bandor’s death was a mistake on Sendak’s part, because it made Lotor aware of the spy. He just didn’t know who it was. But he knew that only two people in the club met Bandor: Narti and me.”

“So he set up a trap,” Lance understands.

“He made sure both I and Narti found out about the drug in the container, and waited there to see which one of us would show up to steal it.”

“I’m imagining his surprise when both of you showed up,” Pidge snickers. “Why he didn’t kill you too?”

“He killed Narti because she was part of his gang since the beginning, he considered it an unredeemable betrayal,” Keith explains. “Until that moment, for Lotor’s perspective, I was only a regular employee of the club, so he had no attachment to me. And he decided to use me, at least until he managed to find out who I was, which is one of the reasons why Kolivan couldn’t just stop the trial.”

“So you were in contact with your boss all the time!” Lance exclaimed. “Here I thought you were just being stupid not using the NSA resources to get out of the trouble.”

“Of course I was in contact with them,” Keith snorts. “Kolivan wasn’t sure if Lotor suspected I was an undercover agent, so he kept a low profile and let you do your work. You were extremely credible as a cover since… Shiro.” He doesn’t look at him while speaking. “Lotor tested me to find out if I worked for the Galra gang, attempted to blackmail me into pinning the murder to Sendak. He’s the one that hid my gun in Sendak’s house.”

“So, best scenario, Lotor got a member of the rival gang out of the way,” Allura comments with a sigh. “Otherwise, you got arrested for Narti’s murder as a punishment for your betrayal.”

“Basically,” Keith concludes. “Since Lotor had no news about me reporting Sendak, he sent Zethrid to testify against me. To put me under pressure. But in the meantime Kolivan got the clearance to put tap Sanda’s phone in order to reveal her ties with Sendak. The rest is history.”

“I can’t believe Sanda betrayed the procurator’s office like that,” Hunk comments.

“She was blackmailed. Not an excuse, but still…”

“I see.” Allura smiles. “Thank you for telling all this, Keith. I’m glad Bandor’s murderer will face justice too.”

“You’re welcome.” Keith relaxes a little bit. He really fears their judgment. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before, but I had orders and I couldn’t risk compromising the mission.”

“We understand that, it was still… really surprising.”

“You all were great. I thank you for everything you did for me.”

“Even if it was useless because the NSA would have saved your ass anytime?” Lance asks.

“You didn’t know that,” Keith replies. “It counts.”

Shiro is the only one that hasn't spoken once. His eyes are attentive, and they don’t stray away from Keith’s face, even if Keith is trying to avoid them. He can’t do that forever, and he admits to himself Shiro is a big (the bigger) part of his reasons for returning to the law office.

“Shiro… can… can we talk? In private?” he asks, as Pidge and Hunk lean dangerously towards him.

“No,” Shiro replies.

Keith’s heart shatters. After all the calls, after Shiro reaching out directly to the agency offices to speak with him, he’d felt… Well, he was wrong. After all, what did he expect? He lied, and his lies had put him in danger. Probably Shiro kept calling just to insult him.

“Not here,” Shiro continues in the same breath. “We’re working on something. Invite me to dinner.”

“Oh.” Keith blinks and his brain takes a few seconds to register Shiro’s request. “Sure. Of course. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Shiro smiles, and it’s warm. “Sounds good.”

***

Keith is waiting for Shiro outside his apartment at seven on the dot, so timely that Shiro wonders if he has been sitting there all afternoon. He’s on his bike and wearing a nice red leather jacket, with dark jeans. He lends Shiro a helmet.

“Where are we going?” Shiro asks once he gets on the bike behind him and places his hand on Keith’s hip.

“You’ll see,” it’s the cryptic answer.

The bike whizzes through the traffic on the streets of the city, until they leave behind the high buildings and the suburbs and head towards the green hills behind. Keith parks the bike in the driveway of a small two-story wooden cottage with a porch outside. There aren’t any flowers around and it looks like the green grass of the small garden should be cut, as if the cottage hasn’t been used recently.

A giant, black dog emerges from behind the cottage and jumps on Keith, his forelegs placed on his shoulder. Keith laughs as the dog licks his face with energy.

And Shiro understands: Keith’s house.

“Kosmo. Down. Come on, good dog.”

Kosmo obeys and Keith rewards him with a prolonged scratch under his chin.

Shiro’s mind definitely wasn’t imagining himself in the dog's place. At all.

With a last rub against Keith’s hand, Kosmo runs back, jumps over the railing and disappears into the woods.

“Nice dog,” Shiro comments. Keith hadn’t lied about Kosmo.

“He’s used to stay alone a lot,” Keith comments. “He’ll be back once he smells food.”

“So… you live here?”

Keith nods barely “Yeah, it was my pa’s. Sorry,” he adds, nodding at the grass. “I still haven’t had the time to take care of the garden.”

The house, instead, is tidied. It reflects the same energy as Keith’s old apartment, but there is also a personality that isn’t Keith inside. The apartment, Shiro realizes, was a temporary place, this house is a place for a family.

He can’t help but stare at the photos in the dining room, they show a younger Keith with his father, especially the one where he has his firefighter uniform on. Again, another thing Keith revealed to Shiro that wasn’t a lie.

Keith lets Shiro wander in the house while he tinkers in the kitchen. A nice smell of meat spreads through the house and Shiro follows it. Keith set the table for two people: it isn’t a fancy thing, with the old flowered tablecloths and picnic cutlery, but there is a bottle of wine and the wine glasses next to the water ones.

“This is an old recipe of my pa,” Keith comments, as he places the dishes on the table. “He has mixed blood, you know. Native.”

“Are you trying to impress me?” Shiro comments, as he sits down and inhales the good smell of the dish.

“…maybe?” A tiny smile appears on Keith’s face. “Is it working?”

Shiro takes a forkful of meat and rice. “I’ll tell you in a minute.” Keith watches with expectations as Shiro chews slowly, his fork poking his own plate nervously. “Okay. I’m impressed. What is it?”

“Deer. And other things. I can give you the recipe if you’d like.”

“There is a reason that I usually use take away food,” Shiro replies, with a small laugh.

Another small smile, then Keith focuses his attention on his plate and eats with small bites. The bottle of wine is open, so Shiro pours two glasses. There is something familiar with just the sound of the forks on the plates that fill the room.

It’s the reason Shiro breaks it.

“You said you want to talk with me,” he says. “I’m listening.”

Keith takes a deep breath. “I want to apologize to you.” He isn’t looking at Shiro when he says it. “I… wasn’t supposed to involve civilians in my investigation, and the last thing I wanted to do is put you back in a situation that triggered your PTSD… I’m really sorry about that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, it was Sendak’s,” Shiro replies. “Both times. And… my therapist said I’m better. You didn’t do anything to me.”

“Still, I lied to you, and I’m so sorry.”

Shiro’s gaze is fixed on him. “That’s all?”

Keith bites his lips. “You said you wouldn’t give up on me,” he whispers, Shiro almost finds it difficult to hear. “You went to search for me at the office. My mother told me.”

“Your mother?” Shiro knows he shouldn’t be so surprised, but this is the first real lie Keith told him, and it was a little bit upsetting. “I thought your mother was dead.”

“I thought so too,” Keith replies. “She wasn’t here for most of my childhood, not even when my father died… She’s CIA. She was undercover for years and I didn’t know.”

“Like mother, like son,” Shiro muses, and realizes she was probably the woman he met with Kolivan.

“Yeah, she’s the one that introduced me to the NSA…” Keith’s voice drains off, and the conversation stops, as if Keith forgets what to say, or decides not to.

“Tell me something,” Shiro says then. “You weren’t into BDSM, right? You studied it for your mission.”

Slowly, Keith nods. “A real master taught me a couple of tricks, and then… just act. I needed it to be believable for Lotor to hire me.”

“So I’m the one that owes you an apology,” Shiro states. “You tried to let me out of that, back then. I was the one that looked you up again and decided you had to be my master. I can’t imagine what a bother I was.”

“No, that-” Keith jumps up, eyes wide. “I never thought of you as a bother. It was nice, actually,” he admits, with a little red on his cheeks.

“Still, you were there for another reason and I messed things up,” Shiro continues. “Thank you for sticking with me for so long. I don’t think I’ll look for another master though.”

“I have something for you,” Keith says abruptly, after looking at Shiro for a couple of seconds.

He takes a small present with a red ribbon from the sideboard and places it on the table. Shiro looks at it with curiosity, then takes it and unwraps it. The black box looks like a jewelry box.

“You know what, it’s stupid.” Keith lunges forward and tries to grab back the box from Shiro’s hand.

Shiro is faster and gets out of the way. “No way, it’s mine now,” he laughs, and he opens the box.

He freezes.

It’s a collar.

A simple black leather collar, with silver stitching and a silver star-shaped lock. Placed inside the collar, a golden necklace with a key as a pendant.

Keith isn’t looking at Shiro, but at the floor, face red, arms crossed with his hands tight on his arm, like he’s hugging himself. “Told you it was stupid.”

“No, it isn’t,” Shiro replies. “Is it for me?”

“I won’t give up on you either.” Keith nods a little. “If you want a master, I can be yours. I read that the collar is a declaration of lo-” he stops. “Of loyalty between a master and a slave and I…”

Shiro places the box back to the table and takes out the necklace. He gets up and goes nearer to Keith, who finally lifts his head to look up at him, and he secures the necklace around Keith’s neck. His finger brush over the little scar on Keith’s cheek, but Keith doesn’t flinch: his eyes are still wide and fixed on Shiro.

“You saved me,” Shiro says simply. “I want this key to be proof that I won’t give up on you, ever. Please allow me to be the one at your side, to support you, to please you, to love you from now on.” Keith tears up a little at those words, and Shiro continues, “I am yours. You have my trust, and my heart.”

“I’m honored to have your trust.” Keith’s hand plays with the small key. “And your love,” he adds with a small gulp, “And I’ll treasure it forever.”

“Will you put the collar on me?” Shiro asks, with a smile.

Keith gives a firm nod. As he takes the collar from the box, Shiro sits down and opens the first button of his shirt. He shivers a little as the leather rubs against his neck.

“We saved each other,” Keith says. “You’re my guiding light. I won’t give up on you either, and I will do everything to be worthy of you. I promise to hold onto you and keep you safe, to protect, to respect and to love you, as you deserve.”

With teary eyes, he presses the padlock to lock it and, at the sound, Shiro feels a sense of peace surrounding him.

“What’s your first order, sir?”

“Kiss me.”

Something Shiro is pretty happy to comply with.

It’s true, he is _really_ spoiled.

**Author's Note:**

> While I was writing this story, I realized it would have been more accurate to canon if Shiro would be the one teaching Keith about BDSM... and I started plotted a dom!Shiro bottom!Shiro with virgin Keith.  
> But! It isn't this story. And I swear, there's plot too! But mostly I wanted to write about bottom/subShiro, sorry not sorry XD


End file.
